


Thine Own Bright Eyes

by TheSouthernWind



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, British, Gen, Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSouthernWind/pseuds/TheSouthernWind
Summary: Actor Tom Hiddleston is waiting to hear if the role of Loki is going to be his or if it will be someone else's. While he waits for the news, he is visited by a poet from Asgard who has been sent by Odin to determine why he is appearing in the All-Father's dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this tale was written almost three years ago. It was something that just flowed and I wrote it for me most of all.

Urth, Verthandi, and Skuld, the three Norns sat at the base of Yggdrasil at the Well of Urd, each of them pouring mud the color of sand from large golden pitchers, the liquid nourishing the huge tubers spreading across acres of green land. The Norn had performed this task for thousands of years, but their most sacred job was representing destiny and its inter-connectivity with time in the lives of those who resided across the Nine Realms. Each newborn child would be visited, the golden threads of his or her fate would be twisted and twirled about them, setting a course of life’s journey through the cosmos. But, what if that child, now a man, could be shown something that would change not only his life but the lives of so many others? 

Chapter 1

A shaft of light emerged from the sky and hit the ground in a bright flash, leaving behind in its wake a man, short in stature, with salt and pepper hair peeking out from underneath a small red hat. His clothes, though worn, were clean and tidy, echoing those of a shopkeeper or farmer from the hills of Asgard. His chestnut brown eyes search the sky looking for the light that had plucked him from his home. It disappeared in an instant and all that remained was a deep blue and the brightness of the sun. Callused hands patted softly against his chest as if he were afraid to touch too hard, lest they disappear into his skin. He moved his head around, letting his eyes adjust to his surroundings. He gulped, his eyes catching sight of three large giantesses seated in front of the biggest tree he had ever seen, the roots as big around as any pillar holding up the largest castles of Asgard. They did not spread out like most tree roots but disappeared down into the soft, green grass. Tales from his childhood reminded him that Yggdrasil spread out its life-giving force to all the worlds in the realms.

He stared in wonder at the Norns. Tales had been told for ages of their height, but now that he was in their presence, beads of sweat erupted on his face. Suddenly one of them turned and looked into his eyes.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” She yelled out, her skin turning a light shade of blue. 

“I do not know how I got here my lady,” his voice quivered. “I was in my home writing in my journals when suddenly there was a white light and before I knew it I was standing here just as you see me.”

One of the other giantesses looked over at her companion. “That can mean only one thing Urth, the All-Father has a hand in this.”

Another ray of light burst forth from above and Odin, the ruler of the Nine worlds, stood there, dressed in golden armor complete with his horned helmet and eye patch. His right hand fit snugly around Gungnir, its tip glinting in the sunlight. He caught the eye of Urth. “Forgive me for intruding into your special place my ladies, but I have need of your counsel.” Odin turned and looked over at the man who had pulled his hat off and was twisting it in his hands. 

Verthandi stood from her perch on a root, motioning her two companions to follow her. She stopped in front of the All-Father and bowed slightly. Urth and Skuld stayed behind her and to the side, but also bowed to Odin.

“What may we help you with sire?” Verthandi asked.

“I wish to determine if it is possible to send this poet to Midgard to meet with a certain young man that found his way into my dreams. Odin tapped the ground softly with Gungnir and his helmet shimmered from sight revealing his gray locks. “Somehow the essence of this Midgardian has invaded my deepest thoughts. It has to mean something. I wish to find out what or why this is important.” He began to pace back and forth in front of the poet. “I would like Stefan to be sent to Midgard, find this person, and see if he can determine what is so special about him, that he would invade my mind while I sleep.”

Stefan’s brows furrowed as he listened to his king talk about sending him to Midgard. Why me? he thought to himself. I am nobody special. 

Urth raised her head and spoke softly in Odin’s direction. “You are positive he is a Midgardian and not some sorcerer trying to trick you?” A slight smile played across her mouth. “Your son’s magic nearly rivals that of Frigga.”

“I am positive it is not Loki, Urth. He can be unpredictable and mischievous, but this feels different than one of my son’s playful escapades.” The All-Father stopped and stared at her. “This has to mean something. I know it is risky, but I feel we must determine what is going on.”

Skuld closed her eyes and tilted her head. Within minutes, she raised her head and set her eyes on Odin. “The All-Father is correct about this Midgardian. There is a destiny for him, something that has to do with Asgard. The essence of what that is, I cannot quite determine. I can see shaded images only. I do not glean anything dangerous, but it is best to know why this is happening.”

Odin smiled back at her. “Thank you my lady Skuld.”

She bowed her head and then raised it. “I must admit I am quite curious. I would like to to see if this poet,” her hand gestured to the man beside Odin. “can take on this quest. Become the hero in a sense.”

Odin turned to the poet. “Well, Stefan, do you have the courage to do this for your King?”

Stefan licked his lips, his eyes shining brightly. “I do not know if I do sire, but if it is that important to you, I will certainly do my best.” His life was nothing special other than writing poetry, but it was still a vocation that brought great joy to himself and those who would purchase his journals full of poems. He was not known throughout most of Asgard, but in his own village he was celebrated by many.

“I am sure you will.” Odin smiled. 

Verthandi spoke up. “All-Father, you will have to give him the tools that he will need and he can only have two sunrises on Midgard to complete this journey. He will need to work quickly to study the Midgardian in his surroundings and determine if some actions that he is doing is what is causing him to project into your thoughts.” 

Odin glanced over at her and shook his head in agreement. “I agree to your terms.” He slowly turned himself to face Stefan. “I will give you the powers you need to complete the task and if need be, you will be able to shield yourself and the Midgardian so that no one else around you can see or hear what transpires. You are a wonderful poet and writer, one that I have enjoyed reading many times, so you must use your gift with words to your best advantage.” He grabbed his staff tighter in his hands. “Use your best judgment on how to proceed, but also use caution. Beyond this one man you are to find, do not allow other Midgardians to know of our existence.” 

Stefan shook his head in wonderment. “That you would pick me, a lonely poet to assist you in this task. I am truly honored All-Father.” He stood straight up and put his hat on his head. “I am ready sire. Although, I have to ask, how will I know where to find him?”

“My ravens have kept watch along with Heimdall as to where he will be. We will travel to the Bi-Frost and from there you will be guided to his location. Well, fairly close. Humans seem to move around frequently for some reason, especially this one.” Odin turned back to the Norns and bowed. “Thank you again, my ladies, for your assistance.”

The three giantesses bowed before him and then turned back to the direction of the roots of Yggdrasil.

The All-Father lifted his right arm and motioned for Stefan to lay his hand on it. Suddenly Odin picked up Gungnir and slammed it into the ground. In a beam of bright light, the two were gone from the Well. 

Within mere seconds Odin and Stefan stood in front of the gatekeeper Heimdall, his golden helm matching his eyes. Eyes that contained the entire universe running through them.

“My king.” Heimdall said, his deep voice echoing throughout the domed chamber. 

“Are we ready?” Odin asked.

“Yes.” Heimdall’s gloved hands lay on top of his huge sword, ready for him to open a bridge to Midgard. 

The All-Father turned to Stefan. “Once you are where you need to be, you will soon notice a tall, lean young man, with blond curly hair and blue eyes. You will see him running along a concrete path that runs through a park filled with trees. He does this quite often, almost every day so there should be a good chance of finding him. Wave your hand like so,” Odin made a sweeping gesture in front of him, “and you will not be seen by him until you feel it is time. All you need to do is think of what you wish to do, and move your hand downward to do what is necessary. Anything you believe that will help you in your journey for finding the truth, you are free to do.”

Odin backed up a bit and leaned his staff forward and then swept his hand down the length of the poet's body. The clothes he had been summoned with were gone and Stefan shivered as he felt the magic of Odin encompass his entire being, surging through his blood, setting his skin tingling. His eyes traveled down and saw his legs clad in blue pants and brown heavy boots on his feet. He felt the material a bit, then looked up and saw a strange looking hat with a curved brim covering his eyes. His shirt had been replaced with a warm, soft material with strange little discs at the top and his short arms were encased in a short brown leather coat. Wonder crossed his wrinkled features and he glanced over at the All-Father. "Such strange clothing sire. Comfortable, but strange." 

"It is necessary to blend in with the local population in case anything happens." Odin gestured for Stefan to move closer to the large open area that looked out among the stars. “The light that you will be traveling through will be bright, but Heimdall and I will do what we can to make as much of the light disappear to keep you from being by seen by anyone else in the park when you arrive.”

Stefan nodded and as he stood looking out into the vast expanse of Asgard space. He never realized what lay beyond his home. The beauty and wonder of the universe was something he was not prepared to witness and his breath caught in his throat as he realized how lucky he was to be given this task. If I should pass from this realm forever, seeing this before me will make my death not without meaning. 

His hands reached up and pulled the brimmed hat further down on his head, and took a deep breath. Heimdall pushed his sword further down into the opening of its holding place and suddenly Stefan felt himself being pulled through a colorful and fast chasm of ever-changing colors much like the Bi-Frost. He thought he would be terrified to be hurtling through space, but to his surprise, he was not. 

Within seconds he noticed the colors slowly dissipate and soon his feet touched down on soft grass between a copse of large trees. His eyes glanced around hoping that his landing out of the sky had gone unnoticed in the late afternoon sun fluttering across the tall buildings jutting across the skyline. He straightened himself and noticed a wooden bench close by and he surmised this would be a good spot to look out for the young man who was about to find out that his little world was not so little after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom meets Stefan and finds a kindred spirit.

Chapter 2 

 

May 2009

 

Tom ran and ran, his deep blue eyes watching the concrete path below, one foot down and then the other. Earbuds were set in his ears, the white cord bouncing as he moved along the walkway. He would look up now and then around the grounds of Hyde Park to make sure he was not going to run someone over with his long stride. Eyebrows crinkled momentarily and a shade of gloominess lit up his cheekbones as his thoughts strayed to the last four months of his life. All the work, all the auditions in Los Angeles for a new superhero movie based on the Norse god Thor that had consumed his whole being danced around his mind. He had bulked up, gaining almost twenty pounds of muscle to look the part of the God of Thunder. But, the director was convinced that he was better suited to play Thor’s brother, Loki. The problem was convincing the studio that he would be able to play the role. Tom knew there was a lot of money riding on this production and the power was with the director to convince the people with the purse strings that the actor they wanted for the role was right in front of them. 

He had more days of creeping doubt than confidence. He had left California to come home to London, back to his roots, to go running every day to clear the cobwebs of whining pity threatening to take over his psyche. Occasional dark and stormy moods sometimes crept up on him and running was the balm that made them disappear. He forced himself to stay upbeat and confident even when the frightening prospects of yet another role given to someone else threatened to overtake his good sense. Tom knew he was talented, he had already done a police procedural for the BBC alongside Kenneth Branagh, a man he considered his mentor. Ken was the man that would have to convince the Marvel suits that the young golden-haired British man in the audition tapes was the perfect person to play the god mischief. 

Stefan shifted around on the park bench and inhaled. Coming down the path was the young man he had been entrusted to find. He jumped up and ran to a tall beech tree, squeezing his body behind the bark. The poet waited for the right moment and swished his hand in a downward motion and watched as his target suddenly tripped and fell on the concrete. Stefan stepped out and ran over to the man who was shaking his head in frustration.

“Are you okay, young man?” Stefan asked as he gripped Tom’s arm to help him stand.

Tom looked up at the voice echoing in his ears. It was not British, in fact, it was quite unlike anything he had heard before. He smiled at the kind face staring into his. “Yes, I am fine, mostly confused. I have no idea why I fell over my own feet. It’s not something I do on a regular basis.” He raised up to his full height and brushed the front of his clothes. “Thank you for your assistance.” 

“You are quite welcome.” Stefan could see in the face looking back at him, a beautiful spirit inside, eyes full of passion and wonder. He let go of Tom’s arm. “Sometimes when we think we are in complete control of our bodies, they can often turn on us and let us know that is not always the case.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.” Tom gazed at the older man in front of him and studied the grizzled face and dark brown eyes that held a sense of wonder. His clothes were clean and not worn at all as if he had just stepped out of a local men’s shop. He put his hand out to the older gentleman. “Again, I appreciate you taking the time to check if I was alright.” 

Stefan hesitated for a moment, not sure what this custom was and what was expected of him, but laid his hand against Tom’s. Once Tom gripped his hand tightly and shook it, it became clear the meaning of the gesture. He also realized that he was going to lose his chance to do the task that had befallen him and had to think fast about how not to lose sight of him. His mouth erupted into a smile. “It is something that I had to do.”

Tom looked at him, somewhat bewildered, and wasn’t so sure now that he should stick around. Yet, there was something about the gentleman that told him he was harmless. “Well, I should get back to my running, I still have a mile to go.” He let go of the man’s hand and stepped a few paces away.

“I was wondering young man if you would consider buying me a cup of something warm to drink? I am not a beggar mind you, but there is something I would like to talk to you about. I promise I have no plans to harm you in any way.”

“Why would you want to talk to me about something? We don’t even know one another.” A hint of suspicion filled the air between them. 

“I promise I will explain everything if you will just give me a little of your time.”

Tom pursed his lips for a few seconds, but he detected no dishonesty in the old man’s eyes. “Okay, I guess so. It will be dark soon anyway. I have my car close by and we can take a ride over to the pub I like.”

“That will be wonderful. Do they have something that might calm your nerves?”

“Yes, they do at that.” Tom laughed. “But, I am afraid you are going to have to walk some to where my vehicle is parked.”

“Well, then we will just pass the time getting to know one another on the way.” smiled Stefan. 

Tom took his earbuds out of his ear and put his iPod inside his jacket pocket. “We will at that because you have piqued my curiosity.” He began a slow walk down the path with Stefan stepping in beside him.

Stefan looked over at Tom. “If it is okay, may I ask your name, what you do with your life?”

Tom threw a sideways glance at Stefan. “My name is Tom or Thomas and I am an actor.”

“An actor? So you pretend to be other people and get paid for it?” 

Tom giggled and nodded his head, his blond curls shaking slightly. “Yes, that is about the gist of it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh yes, very much.” 

“Good, you should always enjoy your livelihood.”

“And, what is your name, sir. What do you do?”

“Stefan. And, I am a poet, you know a writer of words for others to enjoy.”

“A poet!” Tom’s face lit up. “How wonderful. I love poetry, plays, books. I can never seem to get enough of them. My home is filled with lots of books. It is a great source of comfort to me, a book in my hand.”

“Yes, Thomas, I would have to agree. Books and the words inside are truly one of the best things a person can have in their life.” Stefan looked out at the expanse of water off to the left. “I know I feel most at home when I can sit at my little wooden table and look through them, or put pen to paper and craft my own words, words that I feel inside that I want to share.”

Tom looked over at Stefan, his emotions at the kinship he was beginning to feel towards the strange gentleman warming his heart and easing the trepidation he still felt lingering in the back of his mind. Someone who loves words as much as I do cannot be harmful, they just can’t be, he mused. “Do you spend a lot of time writing Stefan?” 

Stefan glanced back at Tom. “Oh yes. I try to write every day, even if it is only a few words. Sometimes I get lucky and am able to scribe quite a few pages.”

“A lot of writers say that you know. A few words a day is better than none at all.”

“Yes that is true.” Stefan stated, his voice barely audible.

Tom kept quiet, not sure how to respond to his companion's sudden loss of words, but then Stefan took a deep breath and looked over at him, a wide smile across his thin lips. 

“You know Thomas, I am really glad I have met you. You have such a beautiful soul, a kindness that is rare among men. Don’t ever let go of that. Because I believe it will take you quite far in your life, as long as you make the choice to do so.”

A pensive look crossed Tom’s face as he processed Stefan’s words, but nevertheless, he grinned. “Thank you. I try to be a good person, remember the values taught to me by my family. That compassion for your fellow man is not that hard to embody.”

“Well, your family have done an excellent job in that respect.” 

“Stefan, I have an idea. How about I take you to my home, fix you a cup of wonderful British tea? You can look at all my books and we can wax philosophical about the ways of the world.” 

Stefan stopped in his tracks. His mission could not have gotten so much easier than this right here. They would be away from other people and he would be able to do what had been asked of him by his king. “Are you sure, Thomas? I do not want to intrude if you are not comfortable bringing a person you hardly know to your home.”

Tom turned and planted his feet squarely in front of the poet who had drifted into his life. “Yes, Stefan, I am quite sure. Besides if you were going to kidnap and murder me, I think you would have done that already.” He flashed a huge grin. “And, besides, you still need to tell me your mysterious news.”

Stefan laughed and clapped a small hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I suppose you are right. Well, lead the way and we will enjoy the finer points of tea and books.” 

“Excellent. Now, let’s head off down this path towards my car.” Tom led the way to a small parking lot off in the distance.

Stefan let a small smile play across his mouth as he looked up towards the heavens, hoping that the All-Father could sense that so far that his task was progressing far better than either of them thought it would. 

 

Tom pulled his keys from his inside jacket pocket and keyed the alarm. It was quite a loud chirp and it caused Stefan to jump back. While he was happy to do what Odin asked of him, having to deal with all of the trappings that come with being on Midgard left him a bit uneasy. 

“Are you okay Stefan. You seem a bit nervous.”

“It is alright Thomas, I was not expecting the loud sound that is all.”

“Sometimes these alarm systems can be quite noisy. But, it is what we have to do these days to protect our property. Sad, but it is what it is.” He opened the driver’s door and climbed inside.

Stefan walked gingerly to the other side of the car, trying to remember to mimic Thomas’s actions so he would look like he knew what he was doing, instead of being terrified at getting into this driving machine. His hand closed around the handle, pushing on the button and stepped back suddenly when the door flew open. He slid his body into the seat and grabbed a hold of the indented plastic where he assumed a hand would go and pulled the door shut. His eyes traveled around the inside, looking at all the little gadgets, watching Tom pull a belt across his chest and jab the end of it into a receptacle by the seat. He turned slightly and grabbed hold of the seat belt behind him with his left hand and copied what Thomas had done. Stefan watched as Tom flipped his keys and the car suddenly had noise emanating from outside, all the dials and lights flashed on and loud music suddenly filled the interior. Instinctively his hands covered his ears.

Tom’s hand flew to a knob and the volume of the music suddenly eased away. “Sorry about that. I have a tendency to play my music rather loud so I can enjoy it and hear it above all the other cars and trucks making noise on the road.” 

Stefan laid his hands back on his lap. “Quite alright. Music should be enjoyed however it pleases you.”

“Indeed. What kind of music do you like?” asked Tom as he backed out of his space and sped off.

“Oh, I generally prefer music without any words. It helps me concentrate more when I write.” Stefan inhaled as Tom whipped out of the parking lot and into a lane full of other driving machines easing his car deftly in between two other motor cars. 

“Steady on there Stefan. I promise I will get you there in one piece.” Tom giggled as he continued to maneuver his car through the streets of London with only an occasional sudden halt behind another car. 

“Oh I am okay. I have never seen someone handle one of these as you do.”

“Well, you have to learn fairly quickly how to get around these streets or you will find yourself smashed up against a wall. These drivers here take no prisoners. If you don’t move fast enough they will endeavor to move you out the way.” 

Stefan grinned. “That seems like a good way of doing it.” He began to stare out his window as the car moved along the road. Such interesting architecture, he thought, old and worn, like it has been here for a really, long time. Yet, among the old, there were tall, gleaming buildings covered in glass, as if they had only risen in the last few days. This must be a city of great age and progress, to merge the past with the future. “What do you call this city, this place you live?”

Tom frowned a bit. “It is called London. But, how could you not know that? Are you not from here?” Then Tom realized he couldn’t be. His accent! 

“No, Thomas, I am not from here, but I promise to tell you everything just like I said.” Stefan grinned.

Tom shook his head and drove faster, the suspense of the mystery growing ever deeper. Soon he turned his car down a quiet street and whipped it into a small driveway set outside a medium size two-story house. His long fingers switched the motor off and the interior light shone inside illuminating their faces. Smiling, Tom removed his seatbelt and glanced over at his passenger. “Here we are, Stefan. Home sweet home.” 

“Well, that was most certainly a new experience I can put away to write about.” Stefan replied, his mouth erupting into a wide grin. He followed Tom’s lead and unbuckled the belt strapped across him. 

Tom chuckled and eased his long frame out of the car, shutting the door behind him. He stood waiting for the mysterious man who had upended his afternoon. The desire to know what was so important began to claw through his stomach muscles. His eyes watched Stefan as he shuffled his way around the car. Something is quite strange about him like he doesn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bond grows stronger between Tom and Stefan.

Chapter 3

 

Stefan looked at the house as he drew closer to Thomas, scanning the front, studying its features. “Do you live here all alone?”

Tom nodded. “Yes, for now.” He ambled off to the front door and motioned for Stefan to follow him. “Someday, that will change with a wife and family of my own, but for now it suits me quite well.” Fiddling with the keys, Tom found the correct one for the lock and swung the door wide to allow Stefan inside. 

The wayward traveler from Asgard stepped over the threshold and into a small foyer. Stefan swept his eyes around the room and spotted the books against the wall, stuffed from top to bottom on both sides of what appeared to him to be a fireplace. “Oh my, Thomas! You were not joking about your books.”

Shutting the door with his foot, Tom reached over and flipped on a light switch to brighten the slowly darkening room. “No, I was not.” He raised his arm and pointed a finger at the living room. “Please go and look at them if you like, while I get the water going for tea.” 

Stefan stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and walked slowly towards the shelves and stopped at the rows closest to the wall that seemed to be part of the stairs to the upper loft. He removed his hands from his coat and raised one hesitantly, then softly ran the pads of his fingertips across the spines. His face glowed with happiness at the sight and touch of them. Suddenly, he stopped as he spotted a tan book with intricate designs and lettering in red. He carefully lifted it from its place and turned it upwards to face him. He could read the part of the title, that said “William”, and at first it seemed he could not quite understand the other, but he realized it was basically two words, “Shake” and “speare”. Shakespeare, he muttered under his breath. William Shakespeare, was this the author and the name of the book? He wrinkled his eyebrows together. His ears picked up creaking across the floor and turned to see Tom walking over to where he stood.

“ It won’t be much longer Stefan.” Tom stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes noticed the book in the old man’s hands. “Ah, I see you have gravitated towards Mr. Shakespeare. My favorite author.”

“It is quite a beautiful little book. So, this Shakespeare,” Stefan said haltingly, “he is both the author and the title?” He turned it so he could read the side, “The Complete Works of Shakespeare”. His hand flipped it back so that the front was visible. “I must admit this is a bit confusing.” 

“Well, Shakespeare is one of the greatest literary playwrights in our country and many different editions of the book will say something similar to what it says on the spine and then just his name on the cover.” Tom grinned. “There are many different ways that his works have been published, but he is the author. Open it and you will see plays, poems, and sonnets. All written over four hundred years ago.” 

Stefan slid his thumb across the pages and flipped through them. His eyes fell on the word “Sonnets” and he held open the book, cradling it across his palm. He scanned the page trying to understand what the words meant.

Tom leaned his head down to gaze at the open page. “The poetry. My favorites of his.” His voice began to echo around the room as he read the first sonnet.

“From fairest creatures we desire increase,  
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,  
But as the riper should by time decrease,  
His tender heir might bear his memory:  
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,  
Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel,  
Making a famine where abundance lies,  
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel,  
Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament,  
And, only herald to the gaudy spring,  
Within thine own bud buried thy content,  
And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding.  
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,  
To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.”

 

He looked over at Stefan and saw the crinkled brows and questioning look on his face. “Will is definitely a bit tough to understand. It is basically the poet telling a young man that he needs to continue his existence by fathering an heir, not focusing on only himself. Because if you do not, then your name is gone forever with no one to carry the essence of yourself forward in life.” His mouth crinkled with a tiny smile. “I often wonder if this is the one poem that dripped into the psyche of every man on this planet. That is their sole duty in life to procreate, to always make sure there is an heir to their family line. Not every man feels that way these days, but it was quite prevalent when this was written.”

“What about you Thomas?” Stefan asked as he shut the book and placed it back in its place on the shelf. He shifted his body around to look into the eyes of his newfound companion. “Do you too feel compelled to ensure that your line is continued?” 

“Well, of course, I,” Just then a loud whistling pierced the conversation. “Oh, let me get the tea first, then I will pick up with your question.” 

Stefan walked over to a long, low table and felt his eyes widen as he saw some strange books laying across the wooden surface, along with several other thick books. Some said, Thor, or Loki, at the top, and some of them were open showing wildly colorful and garish pictures with words printed in circles next to the photos. Is this really how the Midgardians see my princes? But then he realized this must be the reason for Odin’s dreams. Thomas is uttering their names. Each time he does it, the link to Asgard gets stronger. His eyes settled on the words, trying to understand the concept of the story.

Tom rushed to his tiny kitchen and removed the tea kettle from the stove. He worked quickly pouring the water into the cups atop their saucers and setting the tea bags down inside the hot liquid. Pulling a cabinet door open down to his left, he grabbed a small wooden tray and set the plates carefully on the surface, then grabbed a sugar bowl and two spoons. Carefully, he curled his fingers around the handles and raised the tray up, treading quietly back to the living room.

Hearing footsteps, Stefan stood up straight, hoping that Thomas did not think he was snooping. He watched keenly as Tom set the tray down and proceeded to pull up the strings hanging over the rims of the cups and put the wet, dripping brown squares on the saucers. “How is it your tea is inside those little bags?” 

“You’ve never seen these?” Tom sighed and stared into Stefan’s eyes. “I think it is about time for you to tell me what is going on. Do you like your tea plain or with some sweetener in it?”

“A little bit sweet.” He smiled sheepishly. 

Thomas put a teaspoon of sugar into a mug and passed it to him, making sure his strange visitor had a good grip on it and then motioned for Stefan to sit down. He proceeded to stir in two teaspoons of sugar in his own cup and set the spoon on the saucer, the metal clinking on the china. 

Stefan carefully maneuvered himself into the plush chair hoping he would not spill any of the hot liquid in his lap. Clearing his throat, he waited until Thomas was comfortably seated. “First of all, please accept my apologies for all the mystery, but once I explain everything, I can only hope that you will understand my reasons for waiting until the right time.” He brought his mug close to his lips and took a small sip of the hot liquid. “First, you never did finish your answer about you wanting to keep your line growing.”

“Yes, it is something I think about a lot. But, I don’t think I am mature enough yet to try and do this profession I love and settle down with a wife, to build a life together.” Tom drank a bit of tea and then held the cup between his hands. “I think I am like the young man in the sonnet, a bit selfish, in that right now, I want to experience everything that is out in the world, meet new people and see where it takes me. In fact, I am waiting to hear about one of the most important acting jobs I have ever sought after, one that may make or break the path I have put myself on, my journey if you will.”

“I am sure you did your best Thomas. There is no way you could not have. Not with the kind of person you are.” Stefan leaned over and set his tea on the table. Glancing back at Tom, he gestured to the books with the pictures of Thor and Loki. “Before, I give you my story, can you explain these to me. I noticed them while you were getting the tea. I have never seen anything like them.”

“Of course.” Tom leaned forward in his chair. “They are an art form that we call, comic books. Now, a lot of folks hear the word “comic” and think they are funny. Sometimes they are, but there are many of them that are not. They can often be as tragic and dark as some books. It is just the author has decided to express his story in this way rather than just words on a page. A lot of people process things visually in their heads and prefer this type of storytelling rather than say,” he nodded his head in the direction of the books on the shelves, “than regular books.”. It does not make it any less powerful, it is just told with pictures and in a shorter length.” 

Thomas switched his cup to his left hand, pointing to a Loki comic with his right. “This character here is the role I am hoping to play. One of the largest movie studios in the world has decided to make a motion picture called Thor and the director wants me to play his younger brother Loki. So, I have been immersing myself in this art form and reading up on Norse mythology, trying to get a feel to what made him the god he was. That is if the studio can be convinced I am the right person for the part. I am certain I am, but I still have a lingering doubt that they will not be able to look past my lack of experience in big-budget films. I worry that all my hard work will be for nothing, that I will lose out on this chance and if I do, I may lose all my confidence to even continue with something that gives me such joy.” His hand came up to his blond curls and he dragged his long fingers over them and down the back of his neck, across his chin and then brought them to rest on the arm of the chair.

Stefan took up his cup and drank a long swig of the warm tea, before placing it back down. “Thomas, I think now is the perfect starting point for the reason you met me in the park.” 

Jerking his head up, Tom suddenly felt a growing excitement in his stomach, like there was going to be something magical and wonderful that would assail his heart and mind. He brought his mug up to his mouth and took a big sip, then set it back on the saucer, placing it on the table. His thought of finishing it set aside. “Please Stefan, I am giddy with anticipation. I know there is something beyond what is normal for my world. You seem so out of place, not knowing certain things when in reality if you were from here you would know.” His lean frame shifted around in his chair and he placed one of his legs on top of the other, his dark trainer hanging out over the edge.

Laughing, Stefan clasped his hands together, turned and placed his elbows on his knees. “I knew you were figuring things out, no matter how hard I tried to not let you see that I am quite clueless on a lot of stuff around here.” He stopped smiling and his face became awash with a serious intensiveness. “It is true what you have surmised. I am not from here. I am not even of this world.” His eyes studied Tom’s face.

Tom’s mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes bulged a bit. “How is that possible? How did you get here? Where are you from?” The questions nearly ran together as he uttered them.

Stefan raised his hands and smiled. “One thing at a time Thomas.” He leaned closer to Tom’s chair. “It is not quite a coincidence that we met today. I was sent here to find you, to find out who you were.’

Dropping his leg to the floor, Tom crossed his arms down on the chair arm and laid his fingers across his elbows. His face was awash in a mixture of astonishment and fear. “You mean there really is somewhere other than Earth?”

“Well,” Stefan said softly, “We don’t exactly call this place Earth. We call it by another name. Midgard.” He looked straight into Tom’s eyes, watching his thought processes. 

“Midgard!” Tom exclaimed and sat up abruptly. “You are from Asgard? It is a real place? There really is a Thor, and Loki, Odin, too?” 

“Yes. They do exist. We just don’t let anyone know that any longer.” Stefan sighed. “You must not ever mention that to anyone Thomas, no matter how much you feel the need, you have to keep it a secret.”

Tom nodded his head. “Yes, I understand. Besides, I am quite sure no one would believe me anyway.”

Stefan smiled. “That could be true.”

“But, why me Stefan?” Tom stood up and began to pace the floor behind the chairs, his arms at his sides. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. This all seemed like a dream, that he had fallen into some kind of weird alternate universe. 

“Thomas, relax.” Stefan said, his voice calm and serene. “Now, come back and sit down. Please.”

Stopping to look over at Stefan, Thomas laughed. “Sorry, my brain is trying to process all this information, trying to find the logical process of all of this.” He strode back to the chair and sat down. 

“You asked why I am here and all it really boils down to is that Odin, the All-Father had a dream about you. That somehow you invoking his name and all the others who live in Asgard by means of these stories, you have somehow awoken some kind of magic and you appeared to Odin in his thoughts. Apparently more than once from what I could glean from his speech to me.”

“Odin is that powerful? He can have a dream about someone another world away?

“Yes, he is.” He reached for his tea and took a sip. “But, it is not just the importance of you playing the All-Father’s younger son that brought me here. I don’t know if you are familiar with the Norns, but they are also representative of the destiny that flows through each of us, all of us throughout the Nine Realms.”

“I have read about them in the myths and stories. There are three of them correct?” Tom raised his head up and closed his eyes. “I believe they are called Urth, Verthandi, and Skuld?” His head lowered as he glanced over at Stefan.

“You are correct. They are also tasked with keeping the roots of the World Tree from drying up and will often be found pouring mud over the base as they weave the paths of people’s lives. Odin feels there has to be something special about you, that your study of the old ways, is important and both he and Skuld, feel it is important to find out what has caused this connection between you and Asgard. Skuld can sense that you have some kind of destiny related to Asgard, but her visions are somewhat muted and gray so there is no clarity to them. The Norns can also see fates for people and from what I could understand that your future is somehow tied to Odin’s dreams.” Setting his cup back down, he stared deep into Thomas’s eyes. “Odin told me I could do what I felt was important to convey this message to you, so I am going to show you two possible destinies and I want to know if you have the courage to allow me to do so.”

Rubbing his hand across his mouth briefly, Tom took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. “I do, Stefan. I want to know.”

“Very well.” Stefan stood up and walked around behind his chair. He waved his hand in Tom’s direction. “Come and stand beside me.”

Thomas stood and took a deep breath. He knew that everything he had ever believed about his world had forever changed, yet, he knew that something was indeed special about his life. Odin would have not risked the revelation that Asgard was real if he did not truly feel this had to be done. He allowed the surge of pride and strength to fill his blood. No cowardice for him. His long legs strode over to Stefan and he smiled. “So, how exactly is this going to work? Are we going to fly off somewhere?” 

“You have quite the imagination, Thomas.” Stefan grinned and shook his head. “It will seem like we are flying around, but we are merely shifting through time. Now, I must tell you that you will see things that may upset you, or fill with you glee, but remember this, you will not be able to interact with anyone as they will not be able to see us.” He raised his left arm. “Shall we?”

“Okay. But, I want you to know if this doesn’t work, Odin had better find someone to come in and water the plants.” Tom flashed a mischievous grin at Stefan and rocked back and forth on his heels as he laid his right hand on Stefan’s arm. 

“I will endeavor to impart that to him if that happens. Which is possible since I have never done this before.” Stefan waved his right hand across both of them and closed his eyes. 

Tom yelled. “What do you mean you have never done this before?” but before he could get an answer, the room shifted colors and they were soon standing outside a pub. His pub in fact. The one place he went with friends to relax and have fun. “Oh my god Stefan, this is incredible! Weird, but incredible!”

“Yes, I would have to agree.” He glanced around and then looked over at Thomas. “At least now I know it worked.” His brown eyes twinkled. “Come, let us investigate your first possible journey in life.” Stefan pushed open the door and stepped inside. He glanced over his shoulder and found Tom on his heels, wonder and awe etched across his handsome face. 

Thomas let his eyes focus on his surroundings and felt comforted by the familiar atmosphere. The warm wood of the bar and tables, the soft lighting hanging from above and the laughter that wafted around the room. He looked at all the patrons and saw a lot of familiar faces, and then he noticed one of his best friends, Andrew, talking animatedly to a blond, curly-haired companion at the bar, who at that moment was guzzling a large pint of dark ale. Suddenly, the glass hit the counter hard making a loud bang and he shifted his face to the dark-haired man sitting next to him and Tom gulped as he realized the blond man was him. “Stefan, look over at the bar,” Tom said, his voice cracked and shaken.

Stefan glanced at the two men talking even though he already knew who it was. “Yes, Thomas, it is you, but this is not your life now. It is a life that could be. Let us move a little closer so we can listen.” 

Tom fell in step beside Stefan as they weaved their way through the tables until they were standing next to Andrew and what appeared to be a sullen Thomas. Tom noticed he appeared fast on his way to a night of drunkenness by his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. Christ, I look like shit. No wonder people hate it when I drink too much. 

Andrew: Tom, I wish you would knock this crappy whining off. It really is getting old. 

Tom: Yeah, well, you don’t have to hang around and listen to me you know. I can sit here in my cups all night by myself. 

Andrew: Look, it has been a month since Marvel passed on you. You need to get your act together mate, do what you are meant to do. Go out there and find other roles. Show them you can play villains and monsters. That you are capable of doing things other than police shows and period movies. 

Tom: I tried that mate. In fact, I had an audition this morning and guess what they told me a bit ago when they rung my mobile. We’re sorry but we have decided to go with someone else. He grabbed his ale and took a long swig. So, that makes number 5 in the last three weeks. 

Andrew: Were you hungover this morning? Did you actually prepare for this audition? You know what you used to do before the big Marvel let-down. If you didn’t then it is your own fucking fault. You of all people should know that show business is ruthless. You have to fight for what you want and I am sorry to tell you this mate, you have lost your edge. Andrew swallowed the last bit of drink in his glass and stood up. Remember that Rocky movie, the one where he is afraid to fight Clubber Lang? Remember what Creed tells him. You need to have the eye of the tiger if you want your piece of the pie. But, all I see are the eyes of a scared little kitten. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out some pound notes and threw them on the wooden surface next to Tom’s drink. Buy yourself some more courage mate since you cannot seem to find it on your own. He spun on his heel and stomped off.

Tom gulped and bit back tears as Andrew’s words sunk in. His fists clenched the edge of the counter and his face became a mixture of anger and despair. 

Thomas felt sadness in his heart and fear in his bones for this future self. He took a deep breath and glanced over at Stefan. “This is possible for me isn’t it? This life I am seeing before me?”

“Yes, Thomas, it very well could be. But, like your friend was telling you, you have to fight and not allow the possible loss of this important role you want so badly to define who you are. Because you have the talent, you know you do and finding the courage to move on and fight to make your future so different from what could be, is in here.” His short fingers reached over and tapped Thomas’s temple. “This wonderful mind of yours, one that is full of compassion, kindness and the man that so many people see in you.”

Thomas let a small smile tip at the corner of his mouth. “I will endeavor to make note of your faith in me.”

“Good. Now, let me show you something that will make your heart sing.” His hand waved in a flourish and soon they were standing behind a large, noisy crowd that was being kept behind wooden barricades. Flashbulbs popped in the darkness illuminating fashionably dressed people walking down a red carpet leading to the entrance of a large theater. “Look, Thomas.” Stefan raised a finger and pointed to the crowd of people behind the other barrier. 

Tom let his eyes focus and follow the sight line of his friend’s finger. He gasped and tears pooled on his long black lashes, the blue-green color sparkling as he saw himself, walking along the throngs of people thrusting papers and notebooks in front of him. His fingers grasping themselves around pens and markers, furiously signing his name or leaning in to take a photo. He shifted his head a bit. And, he saw it, the large red letters up on the marquee. THOR. The tears came freely now as he realized that this was the other path his life could be if this part came into his life. But, even if it did not, he knew this journey he wanted to take would be his as long as he believed in himself. He turned and stared at Stefan. “Thank you.” He wiped away the moistness upon his cheeks. “I am truly honored and grateful for what you have shown me.”

Stefan patted a hand against the side of Thomas’s face. “You are most welcome my dear boy. Do you wish to see more or are you satisfied with the outcome of our little trip through time?”

“No, no more.” answered Tom, his voice happy and light. 

“Excellent.” His right arm came up in the air and waited for Tom to lay his hand on it. “Because I am getting really hungry.” Stefan grinned and slashed his hand through the air, and the scene before them disappeared into a soft mist and coalesced back into Tom’s living room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom cooks...

Chapter 4

Blinking his eyes, Tom opened them slowly and saw the familiar surroundings of his home, the books on the wall, the chairs, his kitchen. He let go of Stefan’s arm and grabbed him into a bear hug. “Oh my god! That was amazing!” 

Stefan laughed as he patted Tom’s back. “Yes, yes.” He released himself from Tom’s embrace and stood back to enjoy the splendor etched into the face of the man he had been entrusted to visit. 

Tom began pacing back and forth, his hands gesturing wildly. “To travel like that, to see what might be possible in a different timeline. God, my adrenaline is pumping, I could probably run twenty miles the way I feel right now.”

“Well, good. Maybe you could channel some of that extra energy into a meal? Stefan smiled. “It seems I have worked up a bit of an appetite.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Tom smiled. “I have to admit I am a bit famished myself. Let’s see what I can find to put together for a meal. Do you want to keep me company or look at more books, or I could find us a movie to watch? Or perhaps you prefer some music?”

“Since I have no idea what a movie is, music is probably better right now. You can tell me later all about movies.” 

“Music it is then.” Thomas ambled over to his stereo system set on a wooden table near the kitchen. Pulling his iPod out of his jacket pocket, he tapped a few buttons and then popped it into the docking station. Soon the strains of Bach’s Air Orchestral Suite Number 3 filled the room. 

Stefan walked over to Thomas, his boots tapping against the wooden floor. “That is remarkable, this thing,” his hand pointed to the stereo, “that plays this beautiful music that is filling my ears.” His fingers began to move in tandem with the strings of the violin. “You are truly lucky to have this in your life.”

“It is one of my favorite pieces by this composer. He wrote it a long time ago, close to three hundred years now and no matter how many times I listen to it, it never fails to give me joy.” Tom strode into the kitchen and began rummaging in the fridge. Soon he had piled some eggs, tomatoes, peppers, cheese and a package of sausages on the counter. He was fairly certain that Asgard had similar foods and would be okay for Stefan to eat, so he began pulling out knives, forks, spoons, bowls and saute pans. 

“You seem to know your way around a kitchen.” Stefan remarked. He watched in wonder as Thomas cut up vegetables, grated cheese and stirred up eggs. Meat began sizzling, wafting its spicy smell through the kitchen. 

“I did not have much choice but to learn to cook some basic things.” He smiled. “I cannot afford to go to establishments and pay others for my meals every day. So, I had my mum teach me how to cook stuff to keep myself from starving.” 

“I too learned how to cook from my mother.” Stefan clasped his hands behind him. “While a lot of men in Asgard don’t do that sort of thing, she was of a mind that I needed to know. Kept telling me “you never know when you might be stranded somewhere and knowing how to cook meat you have killed or eggs or vegetables will at least keep you from dying.”

Tom giggled. “Yes, mothers do have their way of drilling common sense into our heads.” He poured a little of the eggs into a pan and sprinkled some tomatoes, peppers, and cheese on one side. His fingers pulled open a drawer and grabbed a spatula. After a few minutes, he flipped half of the omelet over the other half. 

“Do you get to visit with your mother often?” 

“Quite frequently.” He flipped open a cabinet and brought two plates down from the stack inside and gingerly picked up the pan and slid the omelet onto a plate. “She lives here in London, as does one of my sisters, so we get to see each other a lot.” Picking up the bowl with the eggs he emptied the remaining yellow liquid into the pan, along with the rest of the vegetables and cheese. 

“And, your father?” Stefan asked.

“Sometimes, but not as much. He and my mum are no longer together.” His voice dropped a bit. “But we get along okay. He finds it hard to accept what I have chosen to do with my life.” He picked up the other omelet from the pan and pushed it onto the other plate. Turning his attention to the sausages he turned them over to make sure they were cooked, then divided them up and placed them next to the omelets. Grabbing two forks and some napkins, his fingers slid under the plates. “Supper is served.” He carried them to the dining room and laid them upon the wooden surface, setting a fork beside each plate onto the paper cloths. Nodding his head at his friend, “Come on let’s tuck in while it is still hot.” Tom stood behind one of the chairs.

Stefan followed Thomas and eased a chair out and took a seat. 

“Would you like me to warm your tea for you?” Tom’s eyes sparkled. 

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” He picked up his fork and began to cut into his meal.

Thomas quickly moved to the living room and gathered up their teacups, taking them into the kitchen. Setting them inside the microwave he warmed the mugs for a minute and then gathered them into his large hands. Normally he would have warmed more water in the kettle, but time was slowly slipping away and he knew Stefan would have to leave sooner rather than later. He walked back to the dining room and set the cups on the table to the right of the plates. Pulling his chair out, Thomas sat down and lifted his fork, and grabbed his napkin, laying it on his lap. His eyes watched Stefan eat and judging from the apparent two bites he had shoveled into his mouth, he appeared to be enjoying his food. “I am guessing it meets with your approval.” 

Stefan chewed some more and then swallowed. “It tastes so amazing. I have never had eggs cooked with all these other things.”

“You don’t have these?” Tom pointed to the vegetables and cheese peeking out from his own omelet.

“No, nothing like those. We do have something similar to this yellow stuff, but for some reason, Midgard’s tastes better.” He scooped up another bite and then a sip of his tea. “So, do you know when you might hear something about this acting role? 

Tom had a bit of egg on his fork. “No, not an exact time, but the director hinted it would be in the next couple of days.” He slid the piece of omelet into his mouth. “I have been quite nervous since I got up today and I was going crazy earlier so that is why I was out running when you found me.”

Stefan picked up his mug and raised it up in front of him. “Let us have a toast my boy.”

Tom laughed softly and picked up his cup. “You start.”

“Hmm, let’s see. May the winds of fortune always blow through your door.” He clanked his mug gently against Tom’s.

Thomas hummed to himself for a few seconds. “To great friends, may they always be in your heart.” His cup clanged against Stefan’s. 

“I will be sorry to not have more time to visit with you. This has been a most wonderful experience.”

“The same goes for me, Stefan.” He set his cup down and tucked back into his meal. He motioned at Stefan with his fork. “Finish up there my friend. We are going to go for a walk around the neighborhood and then top it off with a trip to the real pub.”

“We do have to be careful Thomas, not too many people mind you.”

“Well, we won’t meet too many folks while we are out among the streets and when we get to the pub, I will introduce you as my uncle who came down from the hills for a visit. Been out of touch for a while.” Tom giggled. “Because you don’t cotton to all these fancy things we have here in the big city.”

Stefan laughed. “Very funny. But, I suppose that will work just fine.”

“Good! Let’s continue eating. Then we will clean up and head out.”

“Sounds good, but you get to do the washing. I will dry if that is what you do with your plates and such after you clean them.”

“Normally I put them into a machine and it cleans them, but this time we will do it the old fashioned way so we can spend more time talking.”

“Excellent. Now while we finish our meal let us talk about gods and kings.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinks in a pub and the good news finally arrives...

Chapter 5

With dishes cleaned and put away, Tom ran upstairs and changed into jeans and a blue t-shirt, stuffing his long arms into his leather jacket as he hurried downstairs. His eyes caught Stefan reading one of the books from the coffee table, his fingers flipping pages back and forth. His face fell as he watched him, sadness gripping the sides of his mouth. I have only known him a few hours and I feel like I have known him my whole life. That he will soon be gone forever is already making me feel like a piece of my soul is being ripped away. He forced himself to smile lest Stefan notices the melancholy settling in his features. “Okay, Stefan, let us go forth and explore my little corner of London.” 

Stefan looked up from the book he was holding in his hands. “Yes, of course. You know Thomas, it is too bad that the people of Midgard have to believe that the tales inside,” he popped it shut and set it back on the table, “are myths.” Stefan walked over to Tom’s side. “I wish they could know the true stories of my people, the Aesir, of Odin and Frigga, Loki and Thor.” 

“I wish it would be nice Stefan, but mankind is not the simple warrior people of the Northern lands of long ago. The ones who uttered the names of the gods to ask for guidance on a seagoing voyage, a good crop or safe childbirth, are gone.” Thomas picked up his keys from the stereo table and headed to the front door. “Eventually as years drifted by, the myths stopped being passed down to each generation and now they only exist in books for most people. Some countries up north still hold festivals and celebrate holidays in honor of the Norse gods, but not everyone still pays homage to them.” Opening the door, he ushered Stefan outside and closed the door behind them. 

The night air was tinged with a slight coolness, perfect for walking. Stefan looked up into the sky for a moment, then focused on the concrete path in front of him. “The stars are not so bright here in your London. The brilliance of the universe is so spectacular to behold in one’s eyes. One that I will never forget. I stood on the edge of the Bi-Frost and tears streamed down my face as I looked out at the stunning beauty before me.” He lowered his head and glanced over at Thomas. “Not that I have never seen the millions of stars over my head each night mind you, but when you are looking down into the expanse of it all, it is something totally different and it caught me unaware.” 

“If you truly want to see the night sky here you must travel far out into the countryside away from the city lights. I have seen it many times, so I understand what you are saying. To stand alone on a hillside in total darkness and glance upwards, to see galaxies of stars clustered tightly together and here you are this tiny little speck of a human wondering about your place in all of it.” A tinge of wonder crept into his voice as he took a quick peek at the blackness above him before he looked back down at Stefan. “I am not sure you can answer me, but what is Loki like? Is he really considered the God of Mischief?”

Stefan sighed. He knew Thomas would ask him sooner or later. What do I tell him? Would my revelations of Odin’s youngest son give him too much knowledge? Especially if he does not end up being the one playing Loki in this acting role he so desperately wants. “I cannot say, Thomas. I have never actually talked to the young prince. I have only seen him on special holidays and such. But, people whisper among themselves and on more than one occasion I have heard people call him mischievous. He is always with his brother Thor, that they are inseparable, always together, along with the Warriors Three.”

“That would be Sif, Fandral and Volstagg?” Tom asked.

“Yes that is correct. And, they are always getting into scrapes or partying too much, so Loki’s pendant to create mischief is probably his way of causing just as much trouble as the others. They are still youngsters by Asgardian standards, so a lot of their horseplay and drunkenness is chalked up to friends building camaraderie among themselves. Eventually, though, Thor will have to put aside the playfulness and learn what it really means to be a ruler, because his father will eventually die and it will be up to the older prince to face the reality that being king is not as easy as he thinks it is.”

Tom laughed softly. “You know in one of the most sacred religious texts that exist here on Midgard, there is a saying “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things.” He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, laying a hand on Stefan’s arm as a car came speeding by them. “It would seem that teaching a boy to become a man and accept responsibility is the same on Asgard as it is here on Earth.” He stepped into the street, pulling on Stefan’s jacket until they soon found themselves on the other side. “Although, I would imagine Odin will be quite formidable in helping Thor find the right path.”

“Yes, he is.” He slid his hands into his jacket pockets. But, you must understand, that Odin is not just a father to Thor and Loki, but a father to all the subjects in the Nine Realms. So, Thor must understand he cannot rule just for the Aesir, he must be king for all. Whether Thor can learn to put aside his childish ways and be that kind of ruler will remain to be seen.”

“Let’s hope for all our sake's that he does.” Tom said as he stepped up to a door next to a small shop. “Come on, let’s get you that drink you asked about earlier.” He grinned and clapped a hand on Stefan’s shoulder and eased the door open, ushering them both inside. Noisy laughter and music assailed their ears as Tom’s eyes searched the room for an empty table, spotting one near the bar. His long legs crossed the room in a few strides and pulled out a couple of chairs tucked underneath. He waited for Stefan to sit down and then eased his lean body into the chair next to him. “I am not sure what you might want to drink so would it be alright for me to make a choice for you my friend?” His hand raised up a bit and he soon attracted the attention of an older woman, whose brilliant smile only seem to be accentuated by her bright green eyes and auburn hair trussed up in a thick ponytail. 

“Indeed, Thomas. I leave that decision to your judgment.” He jumped slightly as the server stepped in between them, but as his eyes came to rest on her face, he found himself staring at her earthly beauty. 

“Tom! It’s wonderful to see you.” Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. “How are things with your life these days?” 

“Great Bridget, really great.” Tom looked up at her and grinned.

“And, who is this fine handsome man?” Her voice crept out like a cat’s purr, sweet as dripping honey. 

“Ah, this is my uncle, Stefan. Came down from Framlingham for a quick visit.” His eyes flashed a conspiratorial look at him. “Stefan, this is Bridget. One of the best servers around.”

Stefan nodded his head. “It is nice to meet you, Bridget.” His voice wavered a bit, a flash of nervousness filtering through his warm tones. 

Bridget held out her hand towards him. “Nice to meet you too Stefan.”

His hand grasped Bridget’s and he marveled at how warm and soft it was, like touching a stone in the forest on a warm summer’s day. This touching of the hands these Midgardians do, I think I am beginning to like it, he smiled to himself. 

She dropped his hand slowly from hers and gazed over at Tom. “So, what can I get you, gentlemen, to drink?”

“Two Jameson’s will do just fine.” Tom answered.

Bridget grinned. “Good choice. Two whiskeys coming up.” She turned and drifted off to the bar to place their order. 

Stefan began to look around the room, his eyes registering to his brain all that he could see. He wanted to remember the faces, the sounds, the smells, to take back to his home, to his journals. While it would not be possible to write about all the wonders he has witnessed since traveling to Midgard, he could still embody the essence of the people, especially Thomas, even Bridget. 

“You okay Stefan? You seem lost in your thoughts.”

Stefan turned his face back to Tom. “I am fine. I want to take back these magical moments of Midgard, remember this special task given to me. I can’t tell anyone of my time here of course, but that does not mean I can’t keep the memories close to my heart.” A small grin eased across his lips. “Especially of you.” His smile disappeared and he put his palms down on the table. “Had my son lived, I would have hoped he would have grown into a man such as yourself. He even had blond curls like you.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Forgive me. I did not mean to let my grief get in the way of our good time.” 

“Oh, I am so sorry my friend.” Tom gulped. “Do you feel like talking about it?”

“I have not talked about it for a very long time.” He slid his hands together. “I thought for sure the memory would never surface again, but since I arrived and found myself enveloped by your innate compassion and goodness it found its way out.” His voice dropped away as he caught Bridget out of the corner of his eye. 

“Here you go, guys. Two Jameson’s.” Bridget lifted the two glasses off the round tray resting in her left hand and set them down. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No thanks,” Tom answered. “We just finished dinner a bit ago, so we are good for now.” He dug inside his jacket pocket and passed her some bills.

“Well, don’t you hesitate to let me know if you change your mind.” Her full lips erupted into a wide grin and she shoved the bills inside the pocket of her server’s apron. “I am sure we can find something wonderful for your uncle to try out.” She patted Tom’s shoulder and walked away. 

Tom picked up his glass, the long fingers of his right hand hiding its contents. “Now, I want you to taste this, just a small sip and tell me what you think of my choice.” He gave Stefan a quick smile. “We can wait until some other time to talk about your son.” 

Stefan twirled his glass around for a bit and then lifted it into his left hand. He brought it up to his mouth and took a small drink. He coughed a bit and his eyes watered, but as the whiskey slid down his throat and into his stomach, his face lit up. “My goodness, this is delicious. The flavors. What are they?”

“Well, there is some sweet vanilla, with some notes of chocolate and a slight, salty undertone.” He raised the glass in his hand and gently touched it against Stefan’s. “Cheers, my friend.” 

“Cheers to you too Thomas.” He moved his glass forward and tapped it against the one in Tom’s hand. 

Tom took a swig of his whiskey and set the glass down. Suddenly, his phone shrilled from his pocket. His hand shoved down inside the left pocket of his jeans and pulled it out. He saw Ken’s name on the caller ID and fear washed over his face and dread gripped his abdomen. “Oh my gosh Stefan, it’s the director.”

Stefan grabbed a hold of Tom’s wrist. “Take a deep breath. It will be fine.”

Thomas stood up quickly. “Let me go outside and take this call. Wait here for me.” He rushed through the bar and pushed open the door, finding his way to the end of the building near the alleyway entrance. His finger punched the talk button. 

T: Hello, Ken. How are you?

K: Fine, Tom, just fine. I hope you are doing well.

T: Yes, I’m good

K: I know things have been quite anxious for you waiting for any news, so I won’t drag it out. You had better start growing your hair out because Loki’s hair is long, and we are going to have to dye it black too. 

Tom lost all track of time for a few seconds as he replayed Ken’s words in his head. They picked him! He gripped the wall with other hand and slid down to the pavement. Soon he heard Ken calling out to him.

K: Tom are you there?”

Tom finally found his tongue. T: Yes, Ken, I am, I was so stunned by your words, that I had to listen to what you said again because I thought for sure I was dreaming. The role of Loki, it is really me that will play him?

K: Yes Tom, it will be you. I am sure they had some doubts at first, but I convinced them you could do this, that you had the work ethic and the ability to play this role. What better person that could tell them you would be perfect than me. We have known each other a while now, I know what you are capable of doing.

Tears filled Tom’s eyes as he listened to his mentor. T: Thank you so much, Ken! You will not regret it. Of that, I can promise you.” He could barely contain himself and wanted to shout to the heavens the joy coursing through his blood. 

K: I know this will be a wonderful journey for both of us. I will call you soon with some other details and we will get together at my house when I return home. Oh, and you must not say anything to anyone. Marvel will make the announcement themselves, you know PR kind of stuff.

T: That sounds great Ken. I am looking forward to seeing you. And, my lips are sealed, not even my family until you tell me it is okay.

K: Okay, then, have a good rest of your evening my friend.

T: You too Ken and thank you for taking the time to call me.

K: You are welcome. Good night. And, suddenly he was gone from the line.

Tom finally registered that Ken had hung up and pulled the phone away from his ear. He punched the end button and stared down at the screen. Plops of wetness dropped on the phone, blurring the colored apps. The doubt and uncertainty that had plagued him since he returned to London had disintegrated in a flash. His hand drifted up to his face and he drew his fingers across the bottom lashes, the tears cooling the tingling of his warm skin. From what seemed far away, a voice finally reached his brain, someone was calling out to him. He looked up to see Stefan looking down at him, anxious and worried.

“Thomas! Are you okay? What happened?” 

Tom jumped up from the ground and threw his arms around Stefan, hugging him tightly for a few seconds. Finally, he pushed away from his friend, his hands resting on the smaller man’s shoulders. “Stefan, the studio picked me! I am going to play Loki!” His words were chock full of laughter and tears. 

The smile that lit up Stefan’s face at Tom’s words caused his brown eyes to well up like liquid chocolate. “Oh, Thomas! What wonderful news!” He clapped his hands against Thomas’s biceps.

“I swear you brought me luck. I just know you did.” Tom lifted his hand from one of Stefan’s shoulders and slipped his phone into his pant pocket. “Come on my friend, we are going back to my house and we are going to have ourselves a celebration.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Stefan stepped away from the alley and out onto the sidewalk. “Will this celebration involve any of that wonderful drink I tasted inside?” He raised his eyebrows. “Because you know, I only had a couple of sips before I had to come out here to look for you and I have this nice warm feeling here,” he pointed to his abdomen,” and I like it.”

Tom laughed out loud, his rich voice echoing through the street. “Yes, we will definitely have some more of that.” He draped an arm around Stefan’s shoulders and led him across the street.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadness and Laughter...

Chapter 6

“Just one more joke Stefan and I promise I will give it a rest.” Tom giggled as the warm, fuzzy feeling of too much whiskey and unbridled happiness made him talk non-stop. They were seated on the sofa, glasses in their hand and a half-empty bottle of Jameson's sat on the coffee table. “Really, you’ll like this one.”

“One day an Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman walked into a pub together. They each bought a pint of Guinness. Just as they were about to enjoy their creamy beverage, three flies landed in each of their pints and were stuck in the thick head. The Englishman pushed his beer away in disgust. The Scotsman fished the fly out of his beer and continued drinking it as if nothing had happened. The Irishman, too, picked the fly out of his drink, held it out over the beer, and started yelling, "SPIT IT OUT, SPIT IT OUT YOU LITTLE BUGGER.”

Tom bellowed with laughter and slapped his knee with his empty hand. “Gosh, I love that joke.” He glanced over at Stefan who seemed perplexed by the whole thing as he took a sip of his drink. “I guess you have to be from around these parts to understand it.” His voice died down and he took a tiny breath. He tapped the side of his glass with his index finger. 

Suddenly, Stefan’s eyes lit up and he began to chuckle. Before long, a full-throat laugh emerged and soon the mix between mirth and alcohol took their toll and he began to choke. 

Tom set his glass down and patted Stefan hard between the shoulder blades. “Are you okay there my friend?” 

“Yes,” he wheezed out slowly, “I am fine.” His left hand hit his chest a couple of times. “I finally caught what your joke meant and started to laugh, plus the whiskey I had not quite finished swallowing caused me to lose my breath.” His eyes were moist and he sniffed a bit. He cocked his head at Thomas and grinned. “The picture in my head of the Irishman squeezing this insect,” his index finger and thumb pushed together, “trying to squeeze the drink out of it, is what set me off.”

“The Irish are known for their fondness of drink so he was determined to make sure the fly didn’t get any of it.” Tom laughed and reached for his glass. “Not everyone finds it funny, but it is one of my favorites because it is one you can tell in mixed company.” 

“Well, I am going to tuck that one away for sure.” Stefan leaned back against the cushion and sighed softly. 

Thomas felt the atmosphere shift and lifted his glass to his lips. Swallowing the rest of the amber liquid and turning around to face the visiting poet, he wiped the last drops from his mouth and let the glass rest on his knee. “What happened to your son?” His voice was as gentle as a breeze. 

Turning his head, Stefan gazed at Tom, the despair of the loss evident in his eyes. “He was hit by a runaway team of horses.”

The words hit Tom like a slap. The euphoric bliss of the last two hours dissipated from his whole being. “I am so sorry Stefan.” His head dropped slightly and he took a small breath. 

“Thank you, dear boy.” Stefan patted Tom’s knee and sat up. He picked up the Jameson’s and poured a bit more into his glass. “It was an accident, but there is not a day goes by that I don’t wish my feet had been swifter and the reach of my arms had been longer.” Picking up his drink, he eased himself back onto the sofa. “There was a festival going on in the village square, lots of folks everywhere. Many of the children were playing games, chasing one another around and through the tables and stalls when the sounds of galloping hooves could be heard coming down the street. The clopping against the stone grew louder and louder and before we knew it, the steeds were entering the square.” His fingers gripped the glass, the veins popping out on the back of his hand. “Everyone stopped chattering and began to scream to the children to stop running, many of the villagers began scooping them up out of the way, but Brand did not hear the shouts.” He pursed his lips together briefly before taking a sip of whiskey. “I had been sitting at one of the tables close to the street and I saw him as a fleeting image darting by me. I jumped up from my chair and went after him, but as far as I stretched my arm, nearly ripping it from the socket, my fingers barely brushed the back of his shirt. I kept moving my feet after him, but it seemed like time stood still Thomas.” A sob caught in his voice. “And, I watched in horror as he was hit by the lead horses and tossed through the air, his small body landing across the road atop bushels of apples. I raced to him, hopeful that there was a chance for a tiny breath of life from his lips as I cradled him in my arms, but, it was too late. My little boy was gone.” Tears slipped down his cheeks and racking sobs shook his chest as the intense pain of Brand’s death emerged from the submerged depths of his heart. 

Grabbing Stefan’s glass and his own between two fingers, Tom placed them on the table. He inched closer to his friend and placed his left arm around his shoulders. He knew any sympathetic words or phrases would ring hollow, so he just sat quietly, offering a shoulder and allowing the poet from another land to grieve, to let the pain out.

Soon the loud cries of anguish began to subside and Stefan’s breathing slowed. His head looked up to the ceiling briefly before shifting around to gaze at Thomas. “I am sorry. I have not done that in many years.”

“Please, do not apologize. I am the one at fault.” Tom withdrew his arm. He stood up and rushed over to the counter by the kitchen bringing back a handful of tissues. “I should not have pried into your personal life.” His fingers held out the small white sheets to Stefan. “For drying those tears.” His mouth flashed a tiny smile. 

“Yet, Thomas, being here with you, telling you the story, may have finally brought me the peace I have been seeking all these years.” He took the tissues and dabbed at his eyes. “Maybe getting away from Asgard-seeing a new world and all its splendor helped…” His words drifted off.

Tom returned to his seat. “And, Brand’s mother? You did not mention her.”

“She left me.” Stefan sighed. “Marla, that is her name, could not take my lack of empathy towards her own grief. I was so wrapped up in my own, I forgot to help the one person who needed it more than me.” His fingers began to twist and turn the tissues. “She had carried Brand, gave birth to him, did everything a mother is supposed to do and to lose that cherished part of her soul was devastating. Marla walked away when it became apparent that I had forgotten she even existed in our own home.” 

“Have you seen her at all, you know around your village, around Asgard anywhere?” 

“A few times in passing. I do not know if she ever remarried or not. I decided it was better to stay away from her, not cause her any more pain.” He dropped the Kleenex ® on the table.

“You know what we need? Some good old-fashioned belly laughs.” Tom jumped up and strolled over to a tall shelf by a large television stand. His fingers began shuffling through shelves of DVD’s and he pulled one out in a matter of seconds. Grabbing a remote, he began pushing buttons with one hand and opening the case with the other. He set the movie in the slot and closed it shut. “This Stefan is what we call a motion picture. And, this one we are going to watch is one of those rare gems that doesn’t really have a great story, but it still makes you laugh yourself silly.” Stepping back to the sofa, he dropped the remote on the cushion. “While it is starting up, I am going to go make us some popcorn, because some movies cry out for it.” 

Stefan pushed the tears and pain back into its hiding place, albeit lessened by the good cry that had washed away the heavy burden of grief he had been carrying inside of him. He sat up and took notice of the strange black device that was now showing a picture of some numbers set against a blue background and loud music playing at the same time. He watched in fascination as the letters disappeared and a road traversing through a bleak landscape appeared. He could see two of the driving machines Midgard uses, but even with his limited knowledge of the technology, he could tell they were much older than the one Thomas has outside his home. His face turned away as his nose caught a whiff of a strange smell wafting across the room and Tom was strolling back from the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a large blue bowl, mounds of white threatening to fall over the sides.

“Here we go, Stefan. Popcorn.” Tom picked up the remote and took his seat on the sofa. “Almost the greatest invention since sliced bread.” His blue eyes twinkled as a smile played across his lips. “It is something that millions of people around Midgard eat every day in a movie theater somewhere or in front of a television set in their home.” He set the bowl down on the table along with the remote and grabbed a handful of kernels in his large hand. “Go on, give it a try. I promise it won’t hurt you. Unless of course, you eat too much of it. Then you will end up with a horrible stomach ache.” His fingers popped some into his mouth.

Stefan set his fingers atop the kernels and gathered up a couple of them. Flipping his hand over, he studied the popcorn as it lay in his palm, then followed Tom’s example and dropped them in his mouth. His brown eyes widened as his taste buds relished the salty goodness tripping across his tongue. “What a wonderful food! How is it made?” He dipped his hand into the bowl and pulled out a handful, shoving more into his mouth. 

Tom smiled. “Basically, it is just corn, cooked at a high temperature, which in turn causes the kernel,” he held up one, “to pop. Hence the name popcorn.”

“Clever, wonderfully clever.” answered Stefan in between chews. “Now, explain this,” he pointed at the television,” this motion picture.” 

“Remember me telling you about the comic books and that some authors use it to tell a story? That is basically what a movie is. It is like a book, with a director taking the words written by an author, and using actors reciting those lines to tell the story, but visually.” He gathered more popcorn with his left hand. “Now, different directors depending on their style of storytelling interpret the stories differently, and will make the movie on how the tale speaks to them up here,” he tapped a finger against his forehead, “and sometimes it is not what the writer envisioned, and bad movies have been made from a really good story many times, but sometimes you get absolutely brilliant motion pictures with the right person entrusted with the words and the people who go to watch them are left with an indelible memory that sticks with them forever.” He moved his hand to his mouth and crammed some of the kernels into his mouth. “It has happened to me many, many times since I was a small boy and it is what propelled me into pursuing this acting profession. I love being part of a director’s vision, being part of the journey in telling the best possible tale for those who want to come along for the ride.”

“Hmmm,” Stefan murmured. “So, this movie where you are going to portray Loki, the director will be conveying the path he wants in order to tell the tale.”

“Exactly.” He got up from the sofa. “I think we need some water. Between the popcorn and the whiskey we could end up a bit dehydrated.” His long legs strolled to the kitchen and he rummaged in one of the cabinets for some glasses. Filling them up to the brim, he took one and guzzled it down and flipped the faucet back on to refill his glass. He walked back to the living room, handing one to Stefan and set the other next to the remote. “I think Ken, that is who is going to be the one calling the shots on this movie will do an excellent job. He has quite an impressive list of films he has already done.” Sitting back down, Tom leaned his elbows on his knees. “I trust him completely on this. We have known each other for a while, worked together in the past, so I am quite certain this will be a film that will be loved by millions of people once it comes out.”

Stefan took a few sips of water. “Well, if you trust him, then I am quite sure that it will turn out to be everything you hope it will be.” He gave Tom a warm smile and set his glass down. “So, what do you say about getting back to the motion picture? I am eager to find out what it is about because I am quite intrigued by this form of storytelling.” 

Tom grinned. “Yes, let’s. But, let me start it over. I tend to get excited about movies and can talk your ear off.” He punched the rewind button on the remote until he found a place to begin again.

Before too long anyone passing by Tom’s house would hear raucous laughter as the two men inside shared yet another precious memory.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Trip To the Country

Chapter 7

Tom’s eyes fluttered open sensing daylight had arrived, but within seconds his senses picked up a headache beating against the inside of his head. His mouth curved into an unconscious smile as Stefan’s loud snores drifted up the stairs. Slowly, his eyelids slid up and he tried to determine by the angle of the sun what time it could be, but gave up and turned his head slightly to glance at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was past ten. Well, no wonder my stomach is growling and his fingers flung the bedcovers away. Raising himself to a sitting position, his face winced at the pain pounding in his temples which only seemed to make the dehydration worse. His left hand ran through his hair smoothing down the curls he knew were a tangled mess and stretched his torso to work out the kinks, when his eyes focused on his desk across the room, catching sight of one of his journals askew on top of some papers. It suddenly occurred to him that Stefan would soon be gone, and there was something that had to be said, needed to be said before he was sent back to Asgard. Standing up, his long legs tiptoed over to the desk and grabbed the book, along with a pen sticking out from a stoneware mug. 

Sneaking back to bed, Tom arranged the pillows against the headboard and leaned back, his fingers pulling his blue boxers down his thighs, His left hand splayed the book open to a blank page and laid it against his leg. His eyes looked around the room, and a slight crinkle of skin dropped down from his forehead towards his nose. What do I say to a god? His head dipped back down and soon his pen moved with fluidic motions on each line, the crinkling of pages puncturing the air. After reading over the words again and satisfied that they made some kind of sense, his pen signed his name with a quick flourish. His ears perked up as Stefan’s coughs seemed to grow louder and louder. Sticking his pen on the first page and closing the book, Tom jumped out of bed to his desk and pulled open a drawer, and began to dig through the stacks of junk. Finally, his eyes noticed a cream-colored envelope in the back, the corner stuck flush under the wooden seam. His fingers pulled gently on the flap and lifted it out. Flipping the book open, his eyes scanned the pages to the last sentence and he gently removed them from the spine. Picking up the stack of paper, his hands folded them in thirds and slid the sheets into the envelope, jamming the flap inside. Turning it over, and biting his lips for a few seconds, he wrote “All-Father” on the outside before placing it aside. Padding over to his dresser and rummaging in the drawers, his long fingers pulled out a white t-shirt and green boxers, then picked his jeans up off the floor he headed out of the bedroom to the bathroom.

Stefan had lain there listening to Thomas move around upstairs and could hear water running. His body ached from sleeping on his left side all night. The sofa was not uncomfortable, but it was not his own bed and his old bones screamed at him as he flipped to his back. Unsure of what the rules of hospitality were upon sleeping overnight at the home of a Midgardian, he sat up and planted his bare feet on the cool, wood floor. Massaging the back of his neck and moving it side to side, Stefan winced at the slight pain shooting through the muscles. Thomas had tried to convince him to sleep upstairs, but Stefan refused. He had managed to convey to his host that sleeping in strange places was already uncomfortable and the sofa would suit him just fine.  
He ruffled his hair a bit, then ran his fingers through it trying to lay it flat. Blinking his eyes a few times, he let them roam around the room, studying the pieces of furniture, the books, all the ephemera that Thomas kept in his possession. His head dropped slightly and he noticed the comic book again. Reaching out, he picked it up and flipped it closed to glance at the cover. Thor’s name was written in red and showed a huge representation of the elder prince, decked out in silver armor with a red cape billowing behind him. Long, flowing blond locks spilled out from beneath a helmet with what appeared to be metal wings along the sides. There were other characters beneath Thor and the words, “Tales of Asgard” ran along the bottom. But, it was the drawing of Loki in the top right corner, a face of depravity and madness staring back at him that set his jaw lines on edge. His prince looked nothing like this. Why is he drawn this way? he thought. His musings were soon interrupted by Thomas bounding down the stairs.

“Good morning, Stefan,” Tom called out as he peered over the railing. “Did you sleep okay?” 

Stefan lay the comic down and smiled. “Yes, I did. So much so, I stayed in one position the entire time.” 

“Good. Would you like to freshen up, take a bath, or a shower?”

“That would be a wonderful idea.” He stood up and bent down to pick up his socks and shoes that had been placed near the coffee table. 

“Come on, let me show you how the controls work and then you can decide which method you prefer.” 

Walking over to the stairs, Stefan peered up at Thomas. “And, how was your sleep?” 

“It was great, except for the headache that greeted me when I woke up.”

“Headache?” Stefan asked.

“Yeah,” Tom pointed to the side of his head. “Too much whiskey, too much laughing and not enough water will make you feel like it has been put into a vise.” 

“Ah, I see,” he replied. “I guess that is an advantage we Asgardians have. We can consume larger quantities of alcohol before we feel any of the aftereffects.” His mouth split into a grin. “So, I certainly don’t have to worry about you beating me in a drinking contest.”

“No, I would fail that miserably.” Tom giggled and headed back up the stairs. 

Stefan followed Thomas, his feet padding quietly on the steps. 

Tom led Stefan to the bathroom, stepping inside to the bathtub. His hand swished back the opaque shower curtain a bit. “Okay, these,” pointing to the faucets, “are the temperature regulators. The one that has the blue circle means the water is cold, and the one with red means it is hot. So,” he turned them both on and let his fingers run underneath the stream, “turning them both on at the same time you can adjust how hot or cool you want it. If you prefer to stand under a stream of water, you pull these lever up.” Lifting the silver knob on the faucet, he let the stream fill the tub. “However, if you prefer to immerse yourself in the water,” his palm tamped the lever down and grabbed the plug hanging from a silver chain and dropped it down over the drain," then you wait until enough water fills up the tub and ease yourself on in.” Turning the controls off and pulling on the chain, the water soon disappeared. “Now, all you have to do is decide whether you want to stand or soak.” His long frame stood up. “There is soap to wash with,” he pointed to the dish on the shower wall, “and shampoo for cleaning your hair in that bottle there in the corner.” 

“Marvelous stuff you have here on Midgard.” Stefan shook his head in amazement.

“Well, I am fairly certain that Asgard has some amazing things as well.” Tom let his smile drop away. “There are not many places that can send a man to another world, to insert himself into another man’s life and show him the endless possibilities that his path will take him depending on the choices he makes.” Rubbing his hands together, he stepped back a bit. “Well, I had better let you get on with it. I am going to go make us some coffee. Guaranteed to give you a jumpstart for your day.” 

Stefan wanted to say something to lighten the mood but tightened his lips. His eyes did not miss the sadness that had flitted briefly through the young man’s blue eyes. “I will try out the standing thing with the water and be done in a flash. I am anxious to try this thing you call coffee.”

“Great!” Tom strode off to the doorway and before he closed the door he tossed a light smile back at Stefan. “I have a feeling you are going to have a new favorite thing before you head home.” 

Watching the door close, Stefan sighed and set his shoes and socks next to the sink. I am glad I was able to do this for my king, he thought, but I almost wish the All-Father had not plucked me from my home. I am not so sure the pain we will both experience will have been worth the task. 

Tom grabbed a blue shirt from his closet and thrust his arms through the sleeves. Picking up a pair of trainers from the foot of the bed, he rushed to the dresser and grabbed a pair of socks, stuffing them inside his shoes. His hand swept down and picked up the letter to Odin as he hurried downstairs. Stopping on the last step, he sat down and pulled on his socks and shoes, and then hurried to the kitchen. Working quickly, he got the coffee going and reached up into a cabinet and pulled down two cups, setting them on the counter. Stepping over to the dining room, he stuffed his letter inside his jacket and headed back to the kitchen. The pot had finished brewing and soon his ears heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“My goodness! What is that wonderful aroma?” Stefan asked. “Is that the coffee thing you were mentioning?” 

“Yes. It is just about finished and soon you will taste what some of us call, the elixir of life.” His blue eyes twinkled and his mouth eased into a happy smile. “While we are waiting, when must you return to Asgard?”

Stefan looked over at Tom. “Well, the Norns told Odin I had two sunrises to complete my task. I have only seen one, so I would guess after the next one.”

“Great,” Tom exclaimed. “How about we go for a drive? Get out into the countryside.” His long frame turned and grabbed the coffee pot handle and poured the dark liquid into the mugs. Setting the pot back on the warmer, he took hold of a cup and handed it to Stefan. “Now, I would like you to taste it without anything added to it, and then you can decide if you want to add sweetener or milk. Just a sip as it will be a bit hot. Don’t want you to burn your tongue.” 

Taking the mug from Thomas’s hands, his fingers circled around the white porcelain and lifted it up to his mouth, letting a small taste pass over his lips. Pulling the cup away, his face scrunched into a mixture of confusion and delight. “Oh, I don’t know Thomas. It has an interesting flavor, but it seems quite bitter.”

Tom reached for the cup. “May I?” His long fingers lifted it out of Stefan’s hand and set it on the counter. Reaching over to a drawer by the sink and he pulled out a spoon. “Let’s try it with something sweet in it.” Grabbing hold of the sugar dispenser sitting by a tea tin, Thomas dipped the spoon down into the white grains, letting the excess fall off until he had a rounded amount. Dropping the crystals into the mug, he stirred them around a bit and then handed the cup back to Stefan. “Now, give it a taste.” 

Stefan brought the cup back up to his lips and took a small swallow. “Now, that is much better.” 

“Good!” exclaimed Tom. “I somehow figured you for a man whose palate enjoys sweet drinks and foods.” Taking a sip of his own coffee, his face lit up in a large grin. “Much like myself, I must confess. I eat entirely too many puddings.” 

“Puddings?” he asked. “You only eat puddings?

“No, puddings is what we call all desserts.” Shrugging his shoulders, Tom giggled a bit. “It is a British thing.” 

“Ah, I see. But, you are correct my boy. I do enjoy desserts and sweetbreads.” Lifting his mug to his face, Stefan drank a rather large sip and smiled. “I have been known to frequent many of the bakeries on Asgard looking for that perfect treat to have alongside my hot drinks.”

“Well then, while we are out today, we will have to find some places and sample some fine desserts.” Setting down his mug, Tom walked over to grab his jacket from a dining room chair and quickly put it on. “I haven’t been to this part of the country in some time, so it will be a treat for me as well.” 

Stefan placed his cup next to Tom’s and shuffled over to the sofa, picking up his coat from the back cushion. “And, I am guessing that I am still playing the part of your uncle?” His eyes matched the mischievous smile that had formed on his lips. 

Opening the front door, Tom glanced at the Asgardian walking across his living room. “Yes, I think that is probably best.” His mouth curved into a lazy smile. “I am quite sure the residents of England would think the world around them had shifted into some kind of an alternate reality if you were to invoke the names of Odin or Thor.” Waiting for his houseguest to step outside, Tom let his fingers drift to the lock, flicking it to the down position and shut the door behind him. “I know I would have done the same until I had seen for myself that it had not.”

Looking back at the young Englishman, Stefan chuckled a bit, then looked up, his eyes studying the few soft clouds nestled against the bright blue sky. “Well, there is obviously some kind of strong connection that you have awoken between yourself and the All-Father.” 

Tom shook his head slightly, the blonde curls dancing to and fro. “I am at a loss to understand it myself.” He led the way to his car and stopped next to the driver’s door. “I know that it is probably my constant mention of his name or Loki’s or Thor’s, but that is the stuff of old legends, not something that happens in the twenty-first century.” His left hand pulled the door ajar and his long legs eased themselves behind the steering wheel and inserted the key in the ignition. 

Stefan ambled over to the passenger side, and climbed inside, making sure the door was shut tight. His head angled to look over at Thomas. “Do not discount the forces that lie beyond the bounds of Midgard my boy. While Asgardians are aware of the other realms, Midgard is the one place that still holds special meaning to many, at least that is what I believe. Over a thousand years ago the people of your northern lands prayed to the various gods, to Ran for a good catch when fishing the open waters, to Freyr for the chance to bear healthy sons and daughters, or to Frigga for a good marriage. The warriors who went out to battle accepted their deaths believing that they would be given a special place in Valhalla.” His face beamed a smile, brown eyes twinkling in the sunlight that had invaded the interior through the windshield. “My father loved filling the heads of his young children, well, myself and my sister, the tales of the small humans living here, the fierce warriors and the brave women who fought alongside one another determined to make the land they had worked hard to obtain remained with them.” 

Grabbing his seatbelt Tom clicked the buckle and smiled. “I guess I have a lot more to learn before I embody the role of Loki.” His hand flipped the key and started the engine. “I certainly want to make sure I don’t disappoint Odin, or you.” 

Stefan grinned and buckled himself into his seat. “That will not happen. You have a good head on your shoulders and now that you have captured something that you worked very hard to obtain, the end result will be something quite spectacular, of that I have no doubt.”

Backing the car slowly out of the driveway, Tom looked both ways to make sure no other vehicles were close and then shifted into drive, speeding off down the street. His eyes glanced briefly at Stefan and then back at the road. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. It means a lot.” 

“You are welcome Thomas,” replied Stefan. His body suddenly hit the back of his seat as the car screeched to a sudden halt. Staring at a small lorry that had pulled out in front of them, he scrunched his eyebrows together. “Are some of these folks really allowed to be out on the streets of London? Because it seems like some of them haven’t a clue what they are doing.”

Tom laughed out loud. “Unfortunately they are.” Easing his foot off the brake and deftly maneuvering the car into the other lane of traffic, weaving back and forth through the lanes, his eyes spotted the A2 that would take them out of the city. Traffic was light and soon the city was but a blip in the rearview mirror as his foot pushed the little red car faster before he settled into the maximum speed allowed. 

 

“That is good to hear.” Turning his head back in Tom’s direction, Stefan smiled. “Your family is the most important thing and someday when you are a father yourself, you will understand the joy of holding that tiny life in your hands, that you will do anything to protect that precious child.” A momentary flash of regret covered his slightly worn face. “I would have traded my life for Brand’s, to give my son the chance to grow up, to become whatever his heart desired. I even called out to the gods to take me instead as I held him in my arms.” A deep sigh escaped his lungs and wetness rimmed his eyes as he shifted his head to stare out the front window, the straight white line passing underneath them in a blur. “A few months passed and the pain eased somewhat, until one day I was wandering around a market and saw this beautiful book with blank pages on display in a shop window. I stared at it briefly, then found myself inside the store and can remember the excitement in my heart as the shopkeeper handed it to me to hold. My fingers caressed the soft suppleness of the leather, the rich sepia of the paper inside, and I suddenly saw in my head that this was something I needed. That it cried out for me to write in it, you know words and things.” Shifting in his seat, he faced his young charge, the man Odin had sent him to seek out. “Before I knew what had happened, I bought that book along with several pens and headed straight home. I wasted no time in sitting down at my desk that looks out onto a small lake and within an hour I had poured all my grief onto several pages.” 

Looking up at an overhead sign, Thomas eased the car into the far right lane to turn off onto another road taking them further into the countryside. Turning his head briefly to stare at Stefan, Tom pushed his brows together, a questioning look graced his eyes. “Is that when you began to write, you know the poetry and stories?” 

“Yes. It was such a revelation to me. I guess that in pouring out my pain and loss on that paper I began to feel alive again. While I will always carry Brand in my heart, I finally began to let go of the anguish.” His mouth curved into a tender smile. “I remember the next morning as I watched the morning sun come up over the mountains in the distance, its bright rays bouncing off all the buildings, the trees, the flowers, I suddenly felt such joy of my home, of Asgard.” 

Keeping his eyes focused on the road, Tom let a pensive smile move across his lips. “I am glad you made it through the darkness, or else I might never have met you.” Switching hands on the steering wheel, his long fingers opened and closed into a fist, working the kinks out, before laying it on his thigh. “Do you know why Odin picked you to come here to Midgard?”

Stefan let out a small laugh. “Yes. He told me that I had a way with words. That he enjoys reading my poetry.” Shaking his head a bit, his eyes lit up, crinkling with amusement. “I had no idea the All-Father even knew who I was. Knowing that he had complete trust in me to come to Midgard, and find you, filled me with such humility. I am glad I have not let him down.”

“Fate definitely has a way of throwing you a curve when you least expect it,” said Thomas. “I woke up yesterday, full of dread and self-doubt, and in an instant, it all changed when you met me in the park.”

“Well, about that. It wasn’t exactly by chance.” Grinning from ear to ear, Stefan stared into Tom’s eyes. “That whole thing where you fell on the ground, that was a bit of magic. I kind of waved my hand a bit and tripped up your feet.”

Tom’s jaw dropped a bit, his mouth forming a small “o” and then the realization dawned on him and he began to giggle, softly at first, but soon his whole torso began to shake with laughter and his head leaned back as loud guffaws echoed around the interior. 

Watching Thomas laugh, Stefan couldn’t help but get caught up in the merriment and before long peals of giggles erupted from his mouth. 

Catching his breath and wiping happy tears from his eyes, Tom suddenly caught sight of the road he needed and veered quickly from the main highway onto a smaller two-lane thoroughfare. “I guess you had to do what was necessary, huh?” 

“Indeed I did,” Stefan replied, his laughter quieted down as he coughed slightly. “Not that I enjoyed doing it at the time mind you, but I had to think fast.” 

“Well, it worked so that is all that matters,” said Tom, grinning from ear to ear.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom meets the All-Father.

Chapter 8

Having arrived in Kent and locating a small cafe, Tom and Stefan sat outdoors at a metal bistro table in a secluded corner away from the foot traffic. The morning sun was cool, but warm on their faces as they enjoyed their dessert and coffee. People came in and out of the front door at a brisk rate carrying cups and bags containing sweets or sandwiches. The cafe was situated next to a small inn, so increased business from patrons spending a night or two helped the cafe maintain a healthy bottom line. Cars passed by in both directions, the sound of tires on the pavement often breaking the idyllic quiet of the countryside. 

“Such a lovely place here,’ said Stefan. “Wonderful coffee and this pastry, delicious. What was it you called it.”

“A scone.’ Tom took a sip of coffee. “They have been made here in the United Kingdom for hundreds of years, often going through different methods of baking or varieties of ingredients.”

“It would be lovely if I could take one or two of these back to Asgard, but then I would have to explain where I got it and that would not end well.”

“No, I don’t imagine it would and we both know that the All-Father would probably guess you are hiding something inside your jacket.” Before Stefan could reply, two large ravens appeared out of the sky and landed on the ground in front of them. His eyes widened in surprise as he knew what their presence signified.

Tom’s hand stopped mid-bite as he noticed the birds staring directly at the two of them. “This all seems rather odd.” His long fingers set the pastry back on his plate. “Is it just me, or are these birds trying to get our attention?”

“That would be correct Thomas. However, these are not any ordinary birds. I am quite certain that these are Odin’s ravens, Huginn and Munin.”

“But, why are they here in Kent?” asked Tom. 

“I suspect that the All-Father is attempting to contact me because if you look closely at one of them, he has a small piece of parchment wrapped around his leg.”

“Ah, I see it now.”

The raven with the note walked closer to Stefan, turning his body so that the poet could reach the paper without much trouble. Once the parchment was removed, the bird turned and ambled back next to the other raven. He began to chirp softly to his companion. After a few seconds, both of them looked up at Tom and began to study him, still cackling to one another. 

“Are you two talking about me?” Thomas looked down at them. “It’s not polite to do that you know.” He grinned. “Look at me sitting here talking to two birds like they can understand what I’m saying.”

Stefan folded the yellow piece of paper and stuffed inside his jacket. “The thing of it is Tom, they can understand you.” He pushed his chair back, the metal legs scraping against the pavement. “How do you think Odin finds out what is happening in the Nine Realms.” His brown eyes had a flash of twinkle to them as he raised himself up from the chair.

The two birds stopped chittering and bobbed their heads up and down in agreement.

Tom’s mouth went agape. “Wow. That’s a new one to put away.”

“Yes, it appears Odin wishes to see me, so we are to follow the ravens and they will lead us to him.”

“Okay, then, we had better not keep him waiting.” Tom stood up and dug some bills out of his pocket. “I am not sure where I am going to park the car without looking suspicious, but I’ll figure it out.” He placed the money underneath the coffee saucer and glanced over at Stefan and then at the birds. “Are you two just going to hang around until we are ready to drive out of here?”

One of them squawked once and appeared to wink at them. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” said Stefan.

“It would seem so.” Tom stepped in front of them and headed to his blue Jaguar parked closest to the road. Stefan gave a slight bow to the ravens and quickened his pace to keep up with the long-legged Midgardian. 

Within seconds, the soft purr of the car’s engine filled the air around the parking lot and Tom glanced both ways before pulling out into the road going east. His blue eyes looked out the windshield and he soon caught sight of Odin’s birds flying high above them. Five minutes later they turned and hovered over a wheat field on the right. Tom noticed a big enough dirt patch that would allow him to park on the side without getting his car door removed by a passing car and shut the car down. “It looks like we are pretty close.” He looked over at Stefan and let a tiny smile lift at the corner of his mouth. “My stomach suddenly tied itself up in a bunch of knots. I’m kind of nervous, you know.”

“I can empathize Thomas.” He opened his car door and eased himself out onto the gravel. “It is exactly how I felt the first time I met him.” Stepping away from the car he closed the door and glanced around. His eyes noticed a small path that appeared to separate one part of the field from another. 

Tom shook his head and climbed out of the car. Walking around the back of the Jaguar he set the alarm and made his way next to Stefan. “We had better make this quick because someone is liable to get suspicious seeing a Jaguar parked alongside the road and nobody around it.”  
“Yes, I agree. It looks like we can walk down that dirt road.” A finger came up and pointed the way. Stefan stepped into the low grass in front of him and quickened his pace once he reached the soft dirt of the path. 

Three strides and Thomas was right beside him. Looking for the ravens, he spotted them standing on the ground several yards ahead of them. “There they are.” 

Stefan walked faster. Time was of the essence and he knew that two figures hanging out in some strangers wheat field would not go over well if they were caught. Catching up to the ravens, he turned back and was surprised to see Tom coming right up beside him. 

Tom grinned at Stefan’s face. “Long legs.”

“Yes, I guess that is a big advantage.” He looked down at Huginn and Munin. “Lead the way, little sirs.” 

The ravens chittered softly and turned left into the stalks of wheat. 

The two men looked at one another and smiled as they walked behind the two huge black birds. Before long, a small opening in the stalks appeared before them. Stefan stopped and laid his hand on his companion’s arm. Tom inhaled and a look of wonder crossed his handsome features. His nerves went into overdrive. He was standing in the presence of Odin. He felt it odd that despite his skin tingling, he was not afraid. Despite his advanced age, the God of the Nine Realms cut an imposing figure and towered over both he and Stefan. Stabbing the golden staff of Gungnir into the ground, the armor disappeared and soon the King of Asgard seemed to shrink in size as he moved closer stopping to stand in front of Stefan. 

“Well, Stefan, it appears you succeeded in your mission.” Odin smiled. 

“In more ways than one, my King,” Stefan replied.

“Oh? How so?” 

Stefan glanced over at the young man who had given him much more than a cursory walk through the modernity of Midgard. His mouth tipped a small smile as he looked at Tom, still in a state of disbelief at standing in the same space as a god. “Not only did I figure out what caused this young man to appear in your dreams, but I gained a most cherished friend and a new perspective on the joys of what it means to be a father.” 

The words that Stefan had spoken finally resonated in his ears and Tom suddenly felt the pride of what it might have meant to have a father such as the Asgardian who had changed his life. Not that his own father was not special to him, even more so now, now that he knew the pain of a man who had lost a child. The thought of his father dealing with the loss of his son, or one of his two daughters gave him a new perspective on the lives of fathers. While they may constantly drone on what life will really be like, deep down they only want their children to have a better life than the one they had experienced at a young age. His face broke into a grin. “And, I have learned that being a father is not an easy task.”

Odin laughed and clasped his hands behind his back. “That I can definitely agree with.” He paced a bit before he stopped in front of Tom. “Having raised two young men who can make you cringe every time they step out of the palace, I have come to accept that all I can do is my best in making sure they are fit to be rulers of Asgard.” 

Tom smiled. “My father only has one son who on more than one occasion nearly caused him to pull his hair out, but, you sire, two powerful warriors such as Thor and Loki, that is indeed a special accomplishment.” 

“Well, all the wisdom I have been trying to impart doesn’t mean anything if they cannot find it in themselves to be just good men. And, Thor, especially being the eldest. troubles me daily. He has yet to learn what being a ruler entails. Yes, he has to be strong and knows how to fight, but he is having trouble learning that drinking and fighting all the time does not a king make. There has to be humility, to show that he can accept when things don’t go smoothly and figure out a way to fix it without smashing someone’s head in with Mjolnir.” 

“I am sure that you will figure out a way to get through to him. Until then, all you can do is love them, show them how important they are to you.” Tom sighed. “Sooner or later your boys will see what it is you are trying to teach them.” 

Stefan walked closer to Odin. His brown eyes twinkled, full of a soft, gentle glow. “Despite his young age, Thomas has certain wisdom, my king.”

“Indeed he does.” Odin removed a hand from behind him and laid it on Tom’s left shoulder. “Your parents have done a wonderful job in raising their son.”

“Thank you, sire.” Tom bowed his head slightly and then stared at Odin. “Having met Stefan and now you, I have found myself more humble, more forgiving. I understand now, what my father was insisting on me learning what the world holds for me and what it can take from me, what you are trying to teach your sons.”

“I certainly see that you will do justice to this,” hesitation crept into his voice, “what do you call it? Motion picture?”

“Yes, sire, motion picture.” a small smile graced his lips. “And, I certainly will remember everything that I have learned about Asgard, that it is so much more than the stories we learn as inhabitants of Midgard.” 

Odin nodded his head and then dropped his hand to his side. “While many people in Asgard, myself included, dismiss out of hand Midgard and the humans who live here, know that it is clearly based on the old ways when we were revered and worshipped. Earth is no longer a world with warriors carrying axes and swords in their everyday lives. Humans have evolved into a race of people capable of great things, but that only holds true for some. There are still far too many of you who kill, for killing’s sake. And, that is what keeps you as the unruly stepchild of the Nine Realms.”

“Unruly stepchild,” Tom repeated. “That is a great description.”

“But, having spent a little bit of time here, I am hopeful that someday we will no longer look with derision on this beautiful little planet,” Stefan interjected. Turning his head towards Odin, hope washed over his face. “It truly is capable of becoming that my King, it is just going to take time.”

Odin sighed but allowed a slight grin to form through the silver of his beard. “I have no doubt you are correct Stefan. For me, it will take a bit more convincing. I have seen too much horror on this world.”

“Yes, you would know more than anyone, but I think if you open your mind and your heart a bit more, you will see so much of the good of Midgard,” Stefan said. “It is there in so many of its people.” His face swiveled to meet Tom’s gaze. “This one, in particular, seems to have it in abundance.”

A lump formed in Tom’s throat and his heart swelled at the compliment. 

“I will trust your judgment in this Stefan.” The All-Father briefly clapped his hands together. “Now, we had better go before someone eventually figures out that there is a god in their wheat field.” Walking back towards Gungnir shining brightly, Odin stopped, swiveling his head, staring at the young Midgardian. “I wish you great joy and happiness in your new journey Thomas.”

“Thank you, sire.” Tom bowed. “I will certainly do my utmost best to make you proud.” His eyes widened a bit, as he remembered the envelope in his jacket pocket. Reaching in and pulling it out, he stepped forward and thrust it towards Odin. “I would like you to have this All-Father. It has so many more things I wanted to say to you.” 

The All-Father took the envelope from his hand. “Thank you. I am sure it will be a joy to read.” 

Stefan sauntered over and stood in front of Thomas. “I will miss you, my friend. Thank you for showing me some wonderful things and for allowing me to take care of this little task for Odin.”

Tom grabbed Stefan and threw his arms around his shoulders. “Oh, Stefan, it is you I have to thank. For everything.” Dropping his arms and stepping back, “you and the All-Father have given me so much, helped me see that being morose and sad will not take me far in life. And, for that, you will always hold a special place in my heart.” 

Stefan’s eyes watered. “And, I for you as well, Thomas.” Smiling through his tears, the realization that they would not see one another again, gripped his chest. “I wish you peace and long life my friend.” The pain was too much and he quickly walked over to where Odin had picked up his golden staff, once again covered in his golden armor. Standing beside his King, Stefan raised his hand in a small wave as they both disappeared in a shaft of light.

Tom allowed the tears to fall down his cheeks, let the emotions of what had transpired since the fall in the park to fill him with happiness. His world had been upended and he knew from this moment forward that his destiny was going to change. How he dealt with it would be the difference in being an actor who people loved or one that people would struggle to remember his name. His mind had pretty much confirmed it would be the first one. Turning and walking through the stalks of wheat, the tops of the stems slapping at his pants, his face beamed with giddiness and exhilaration.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years have gone by and Odin's ravens bring disturbing news.

Chapter 9

 

Five years later…

Tom sat on his patio drinking a cup of coffee, a blueberry scone sitting half-eaten on a plate, enjoying the quiet and serenity of the early English morning. Mornings that he had missed too many times since Loki had given him the career he had always wanted. Fall was fading fast, but Britain was in the grip of some unusual days of not-so-typical weather and while there was a slight crispness in the air, the sun was warm and inviting. His thoughts began to wander, staring at the scarlet leaves falling from the trees, floating on currents of air before they hit the grass. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he spotted two huge ravens sitting on the top of the wall. 

“Well, hello there you little rascals? What brings you here again?” Glancing at each of them, he looked for the tiny gold band around Hugin’s right foot, put there by Odin so Tom could tell them apart. Since that fateful day when an Asgardian had tripped him up in the park, the All-Father’s beloved ravens had often come to visit, either on their own as they traveled the skies of Midgard, or at the behest of Odin. They often came bearing gifts from Stefan, pieces of parchment or small books. Imbued with great strength and ability, they were quite capable of carrying heavy objects in their claws. His eyes caught them looking hungrily at the treat on the table.

“Fancy a bit of dessert this morning do you? Come on over and help yourself.” Tom began to break up the scone into small pieces and waited while they flew to the table, their sharp claws touching down gently on the wooden surface. Each of them looked at Tom as his long fingers dropped a tidbit in their beaks. “So, what news do you bring my friends?”

Hugin looked at him, then at the plate with the scones. "In a minute Thomas, we have had a long journey and are kind of hungry at the moment." 

Tom laughed out loud and passed the plate in front of them. “My apologies. Would you like some water as well?”

"Yes, that would be most acceptable my human friend," stated Munin, in-between picking out bits of blueberries with its tough beak. 

Swallowing the last of his coffee, Tom stepped over to the outside faucet and turned on the spigot, filling the cup almost to the brim. Setting the water in front of them, his fascination with these beautiful birds grew each time they came to see him. It was not every day that a human on Midgard could have a conversation with two huge ravens. They finished off the last of the scone and took turns drinking the water, nearly emptying the cup. 

"Thank you for that tasty morsel and water." Hugin said. Staring into Tom’s eyes, Hugin seemed to take on a look of sadness. "We have been sent here by Odin to tell you that Stefan has grown ill with a sickness, one that the healers cannot seem to find a way to fix. It appears to be an old disease, one that he may have picked up while walking in a forest not normally used by Asgardians. Somehow he came in contact with a plant or flower that is deadly once it begins to get into the bloodstream." 

Tears sprang into Tom’s eyes and his chest felt like he had been hit by a fist. “How long has he got?” his voice stammered. 

"They are not sure. Maybe a few days. Odin has requested you meet him at that place where he first appeared to you." Munin stated. "We were sent ahead to give you time to prepare and get to the wheat field." 

“Yes, of course.” Tom jumped up from his chair, leaving the cup and plate behind. His long stride took him quickly into the house. Within minutes he stepped back outside but saw that the ravens were gone. Shaking his head, he gathered up the cup and saucer and hurried back indoors flicking the lock on the door. After setting the dishes in the sink, he checked his pockets to make sure he had his keys to the house and the car and headed out, slamming the front door behind him. Striding to the blue Jaguar parked in the driveway, he stopped and had to grin as Hugin and Munin sat there on the ground beside the driver’s door. “What are you two doing?” he asked.

"Waiting for you of course." Hugin said. "We thought we would ride along with you if that is acceptable." 

Tom could have sworn that bird was grinning, in fact, they both seemed to be grinning at one another. “You can do that? Ride in a car?.”

"Yes, we can ride in your conveyance." Hugin said. "As you know, Thomas, we are not ordinary ravens such as exist here on Midgard. While the ravens who live here are indeed quite intelligent, we kind of surpass them a bit." His head bobbed up and down, and a slight clicking noise filled the air, which sounded close to a slight titter of laughter.

“You have quite the cheek this morning, Hugin. You wouldn’t be trying to cheer me up a bit would you?”

"Me, sir? I don’t know what you are talking about." said Hugin, his head swiveling back to look at his twin. 

Laughing, Tom wrapped his hand around the handle of the door and swung it open. “Let me lay my jacket down, so your claws don’t scratch the leather.” He shook his arms out of the sleeves and laid it on the seat. Stepping back out of the way, he stared in wonder as Munin and Hugin lifted themselves up carefully in flight and set their bodies down softly on his coat. Easing his long legs in and underneath the steering wheel, Tom started the car and reached up for the seat belt and snapped it into place. “You are sure about this?” 

"Quite so Thomas. After all, we did fly a long way to get here, so not having to fly for some time is welcoming," answered Munin.

“Okay then, let’s get going.” Tom set the Jaguar in reverse and backed slowly out of the drive. Before driving off, he flicked on his iPod, pulling up a medley of tunes covered by the Vitamin String Quartet. Soon strains of Man in the Mirror began to filter through the speakers and as the blue car sped off, folks looking inside would be shocked to see two ravens and a ginger-haired man bobbing their bodies up and down in synchronous rhythm. 

 

Odin, All-Father to the Nine Realms of the cosmos paced back and forth in the circle of concealment he had created to keep him hidden from prying eyes. Where in the world are those birds? he mused to himself. It should not have taken them that long to get here. Sometimes he fretted way too much that they often did things while flying around Midgard that gave him cause to wonder if they would return home each night. Since allowing them to visit Thomas when they came to Midgard, they often came back regaling him with things that two ravens of such caliber should not be concerning themselves with. In-between telling him what was important for him to know as far as the inhabitants of all the worlds, they would often get side-tracked and talk to each other about the places and wonders they had seen. Many times he would have to scold them like a father to his children. His ears picked up a change in the quiet of the surrounding area and he stopped and heard someone walking through the stalks. His hand waved around and the mist cleared a small enough hole and soon Tom appeared with Hugin and Munin on his shoulders. 

“What has taken you so long to get here, you scoundrels?” asked Odin, his voice tinged with a hint of anger.

“I am sorry, sire, there was a small accident tying up the road just outside London,” Tom replied.

“Not you, my boy. I meant those two ravens sitting on your shoulders.” His one eye stared at them. “They should have been here long before you.”

Tom grinned and looked at Hugin. “I’ll let you explain that one, old boy.” 

Hugin stared at Thomas briefly, then looked over at Odin. "Well, my king, Munin and I, that is we wanted to spend a little time with our friend here, so we rode with him in that machine of his." 

Munin piped up. "Yes, we hadn’t seen him in such a long time and we thought riding with him to this place would give us some time to catch up on things, listen to a little music," his voice drifted away.

“What?” Odin bellowed. “You decided to take a joyride in a car?” His hand stabbed Gungnir into the ground. “You know, you and your brother are straying far from your tasks. Just because you have free rein to fly about the Nine Realms, that does not give you cause to forget your place and the powers given to you.”

"Yes, my king." They both replied in unison.

“Don’t be too hard on them All-Father,” Tom said. “I have so enjoyed visiting with them these last few years and they have often brought me great comfort and happiness, often when I needed it the most.”

Letting a deep sigh echo around them, Odin stepped closer to Thomas. “Well, if they have given you that, I will let it pass. Now, I have a question to ask you. Stefan has begged me to allow you to visit him at his bedside, regardless of the fact, I am against allowing humans on Asgard. But, it is a decision that only you can make. I told him that. So, he is aware that even though I am granting special permission this one time, it is up to you.”

Dropping his mouth open, Tom could not speak for a moment. Finally, he found the ability to talk. “You mean, you would take me to Asgard? To see him one last time?”

“Yes. Stefan has earned that gift.” Odin said. “But, we will have to be very careful to make sure you do not interact with anyone else. Once we are through the Bifrost, I will conceal you on the skiff that will take us to the castle. I have brought him there and put him in a special place where the healers can keep an eye on him and make him comfortable.” 

“Of course, I will go,” Tom replied. “I am on holiday now until after the New Year, so I have the time.” 

Odin nodded his head and smiled. “Somehow I knew you would not say no.” Looking over at the ravens, he waved a finger. “As for you two, you still have a job to do, so I suggest you make an effort to get going.” 

"Yes, sire." They looked over at Tom. "Thank you for the lovely ride and the treat of that lovely music we listened to on the way here. It was quite enjoyable." 

“You are quite welcome, my friends.” Tom raised his right hand and gave them each a scratch under their beaks. “Thank you for the company and the laughs.” They each dropped to the ground so they would not hit him with their large wings when taking off. Glancing one more time up at Thomas, they whooshed off in a burst of flight. 

Tom’s long fingers brushed across the slight stubble on his chin. “I will need to call the woman at the inn near here that I will be gone for a bit so she can keep an eye on my car while I am gone.” Reaching into his pants pocket he pulled out his mobile phone. “I parked it there and walked. Thought it would raise less suspicion instead of parking it alongside the road.” 

“Of course,” Odin remarked. “You might want to advise her that you could be gone a couple of days, just in case you wish to stay until…” His voice drifted off as he found he could not bear to speak the words, their finality of the fate that awaited Stefan.

Punching a button on his cell and looking down at his trainers, he saw himself kicking at the ground with his right foot. “Hello, Connie. Tom here.”

“Yes, hello, Tom. Is something wrong?” 

“No, no, nothing at all. I met a friend of mine and I’m going to take a couple of days to go down to the sea for a bit. Do some relaxing before the holiday parties and such start, so I was wondering if you could keep an eye on my car for me?”

“I would be glad to. Don’t worry about it. In fact, I will pull out my soft tarp and throw it over it, so folks won’t notice it sitting by the shed.” 

“Thanks, Connie. It is most appreciated.”

“You are most welcome. Have a good time and I’ll see you when you get back.” 

“Okay, will do.” Tom disconnected the call and thrust the mobile back into his jeans. Stepping closer to Odin. his hands pulled his jacket closer together. “Ready whenever you are sire.”

Shaking his head in agreement, Odin wrapped a hand around the golden staff, pulling it out of the ground. “Come a bit closer Thomas and grab my elbow. I wouldn’t want you to fall before we get there.” A smile formed around the grayness that ringed his face. 

“Indeed, sir.” Tom stood beside the All-Father and took hold of Odin’s arm in a strong grip. 

Odin slammed Gungnir into the soft ground and a golden light enveloped him and the small human hanging on tightly to his arm.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom arrives in Asgard.

Chapter 10

 

The sudden whoosh assailed Tom’s ears and his insides clenched as if being squeezed by a vise grip. The speed at which they were traveling astonished him. Emotions, both physical and mental assailed his body and mind. Within seconds they were soon deposited through a large, gold opening and his feet hit solid ground. Nearly losing his balance, he felt the All-Father’s hand on his shoulder, pulling his body upright. Astonishment crept over his face as his eyes adjusted to the room, marveling at the beauty of it. Seeing a rather tall man standing up above him on a round dais, a large sword in his hand, Tom smiled. “You must be Heimdall.” 

Heimdall glanced over at Odin and then back at the small Midgardian. “Yes, you are correct.” 

“Come, Thomas, let us fit you in something that is a more common dress on Asgard. It is just a precaution in case someone should catch a glimpse of you.” Odin waved his hand a bit and soon the young Midgardian was dressed in a long pewter tunic adorned with gold piping down the front with a mid-size belt. The bottoms of the matching color pants were tucked inside charcoal suede boots. Shaking his head in satisfaction, the All-Father strolled to the opposite opening, his right hand hefting the golden staff. “You know nothing about this Heimdall, even if you do.” his voice called out.

“Yes, my king.” the gatekeeper looked over at Tom who was still gaping at the clothes that had suddenly shifted onto his body. His hands ran down his torso briefly, using his tactile senses on the soft fabric before lifting his arms and studying the small metal braces holding the sleeve ends together. Heimdall smiled. “You had better get going young human. The All-Father is waiting.”

“Oh yes, sorry.” Tom trotted off, his long legs allowing him to catch up with Odin, who was standing beside a large skiff made of silver and gold. The design reminded him of the huge Viking ships that once traveled the northern seas of Earth. His eyes studied the design of it, appreciating the huge curves at both ends and the power source built into one end with metal spikes that were attached to a gear. They lay even with the side of the ship as it sat atop the Bifrost. His head lowered and watched with fascination the myriad of colors passing beneath his feet. “This is exactly like I pictured it, sire.” Looking over at Odin, he grinned slightly. “I am standing on the Rainbow bridge. The bridge that every child on Midgard remembers hearing about at their mother’s knee.”

“As much as I would love for you to see more of our beautiful city, we must get to the palace.” Odin waited while one of the two Einherjar assisted him into the skiff and Tom waited until the guard nodded at him that he had permission to climb into the ship. 

Odin sat on one of the small seats set on either side of the skiff and inclined his head at the guard standing at the rudder. The All-Father flicked his wrist briefly concealing the two of them from prying eyes while the ship flew through the city. His eyes stole a glance at the young human who given so much life to the character of Loki back on Midgard and had awakened a sense of mystique again in the old stories. He could not help but smile a bit as Thomas attempted to take in every bit of the city that lay below him, shifting his body around constantly. 

“Your city is beautiful, sire.” Tom gazed into the face of the king. “I thank you for letting me see it for a bit.”

“It is something that we must keep secret of course, but, because of your interpretation of Loki in these motion pictures, Midgard is studying the old myths again, calling out the names of the heroes, the gods. It is, I feel, a befitting gesture of repayment.”

A small smile tipped at the corner of Tom’s mouth. “I will take that as the biggest compliment I could have been given.”

“If nothing else, this time together will give me a chance to thank you for the kind words you wrote in that letter you gave me all those years ago.” 

“You are most welcome,” Tom stated. “I knew then as I know now, that I have been given a great gift and I wanted you to know how much I appreciated it.”

Odin nodded briefly and started to speak, but pursed his lips together. The skiff slowed as it approached a cavernous opening in the middle section of the castle and glided inside, the guard setting it down softly against the polished tiles. The other two Einherjar jumped off the ship and pulled out the steps from the side to allow the All-Father to disembark, the hem of his long robes slinking across the metal. Odin turned and waited for Thomas to fall in beside him. “We should only see the servants on our way to Stefan’s room and since you are somewhat in disguise, no one will think twice about your presence. Do remember not to get too far ahead of me, as subjects always walk slightly behind their king.” A grin seemed to appear out of nowhere and his dark eyes twinkled slightly. “Besides, you certainly know how to act like a prince of Asgard.”

“Yes, sire.” Thomas laughed a bit, then coughed into his hand, his throat stifling a giggle. Standing erect, and loosely clasping his sweaty palms behind his back, his acting skills becoming evident in the calm and ease washing over his face. 

The All-Father strolled off in the direction of a door not far from the landing area, Tom a tad behind him to his right. A guard by the entrance moved quickly to make sure it was open upon his king’s arrival. Striding through the opening, Odin was greeted by one of the major healers in his kingdom. “Ah, Gretta, how is Stefan doing?”

“The same, my king. Not worse, but certainly not better. We are making him comfortable, but without knowing how to treat the sickness, there is not much else to do.”

Odin sighed. “Very well, I wish to see him and this young man is to come with me. Please clear everyone out of the room.”

Her expression changed slightly, but Gretta did not question his orders. “Yes, All-Father.” Turning and rushing down the marble hallway, she disappeared into a large room. As Tom and Odin reached the door, three servants and the healers scurried off towards another set of double doors. The All-Father signaled at two Einherjar that stood near a large atrium. They took up a position at either side of the entrance. “No one is to come in unless it is Frigga.”

“Yes, my king.” 

Odin rushed into the room and stepped aside waiting for Tom to get in before closing the doors. A slight rustle from the bed next to a large open window alerted the All-Father that Stefan was awake. Placing the golden staff against the wall, Odin glanced over at the dying man. “Hello, my dear poet. How are you feeling today? I have brought someone to visit you.” 

Tom glanced at Stefan and even from across the room, the deathly pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his brown eyes, clearly showed the finality of death. His heart constricted inside his chest. 

Stefan’s eyes widened and slowly rose to a sitting position. “Thomas! You came!” 

Tom hurried to his bedside and sat down. “Yes, I did, my friend. How could I pass up a chance to visit Asgard?” His hand started to reach for one of Stefan’s, but the old poet drew it up to his chest.

“Sorry dear boy, but I don’t know if it would be harmful if you were to touch me. We would have to check with the healers. Wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

“Ah, I guess you are right about that.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, Odin strode closer to the end of the bed. “I must tell you a funny thing that happened when Thomas arrived at the field, you know the one.”

Stefan scrunched his eyebrows together. “Yes, I know.”

“It appears my ravens have been going to visit him quite regularly since I allowed you to send gifts to Midgard.” His chin raised up a bit. “I stood there in that field wondering where they were, what had been taking them so long to return to me when Thomas shows up with Hugin and Munin sitting on his shoulders.”

“Did something happen to the ravens?” Stefan shot a puzzled look at Thomas, then glanced back at Odin.

“Oh no, nothing like that. It appears that they decided to take a joy ride in that device Thomas calls a car.” 

Astonishment crept into Stefan’s eyes. “Hugin and Munin rode in a car?” 

Tom grinned and laid his arms on his knees. “They sure did. You should have seen them. I wouldn’t have believed it myself, but they insisted, so I let them. They were great company on the way and I couldn’t help but be cheerful watching those ravens bouncing to the music blasting out of my stereo.” His smile lessened. “I was devastated at the news they had brought me and they knew it. So, as usual, those two birds took it upon themselves to cheer me up.”

Stefan stared at Odin. “I am sorry All-Father. Had I known that your ravens would travel outside of their paths, I would never have asked you to allow them to deliver the gifts I chose for Thomas.”

Waving a hand in dismissal, Odin smiled. “Do not trouble yourself about it. My ravens are quite remarkable animals and if they felt a need to make occasional visits to see this young man, for whatever reasons, I must accept that.” Hearing a noise behind him, the All-Father turned to see his wife Frigga walking through the doors. “My queen. I see you figured out I had returned.”

Shutting the doors quietly, Frigga smiled. “Yes, my husband. I did.” 

Tom jumped up from the bed and bowed at the presence of Odin’s wife. “My lady.” His voice betrayed his nervousness. 

Stepping between Odin and Thomas, her blue eyes shone brightly at each of them and then gazed at Stefan. “This must be the young man you have often spoken about.”

“Yes, my queen, this is Thomas, of Midgard.”

“So, Thomas, you are the one that portrays my son Loki in these moving pictures that Odin has explained to me?”

“Indeed, my lady.” His hand lay across his chest. “It has been a privilege and an honor to do so.” 

“Well, that is all that matters then,” said Frigga. “Now”, looking over at Odin,” why don’t we allow Thomas and Stefan to visit with one another for a bit.” 

Odin smiled and looked at the two men. “It is also her way of making sure I get some rest.”

Frigga laughed and took Odin’s arm, steering him towards the door. Looking back at the young Midgardian, “He knows me so well.” 

Tom grinned as he watched the king and queen leave the room. Looking back at Stefan, his emotions began to overwhelm him and his eyes filled with tears. “I am still refusing to believe that nothing can be done to save you.” His hand brushed away the moisture sliding down his chiseled cheeks. “This is Asgard, surely there is some kind of magic, something.”

“Believe me, Thomas, the healers have done everything in their power to find a cure. There just isn’t one.”

“Well, how did you get this sickness? What happened?” His voice was thick and agitated.

Stefan leaned back against the pillow, his strength waning. “I wanted to take a little trip somewhere that was quiet, serene, untouched by others, you know to find some inspiration for new stories and poems. So, I rented a skiff and someone to fly me to a place we call the Forest of the Ancients.” A hand reached up and covered his mouth to stifle the cough that began to filter up from his lungs.

Thomas spied a brass pitcher and a glass on the wooden table next to the bed and quickly poured Stefan some water. Handing it to the poet, Tom waited until he had swallowed some of the clear liquid and set the glass back down on the surface next to a pile of books. 

“Thank you, my dear boy,” said Stefan. “As I was saying, I told the owner of the skiff to drop me off, that I was going to stay for a couple of days and told him I would pay him a little extra if he would come back and pick me up. He agreed and left me at this beautiful little glen.” His face contorted as a wave of intense pain and itching coursed through his body, one of his hands reached for the large inflamed spot on his face, but stopped before touching it. “I have been told scratching it makes it worse. Most of the time the medicine they slather on them works, but as it wears off, it comes back.”

“Would you like me to find a healer to bring you some more?” 

“In a bit.” His face turned slightly to gaze at his young friend from Midgard. “I set up a little camp for myself and immersed myself in the beauty of a woods not seen by most. I wrote. I watched the birds, the deer. I wandered around through the trees studying nature up close. That night I slept under the stars and woke up to find my arms covered in red spots that suddenly began to itch once exposed to the morning air. I knew something was wrong, but not knowing anything about medicine, all I could do was keep cool water on them to keep me from scratching a hole in my skin. I gathered my things and waited for the skiff owner to return.” Clearing his throat, Stefan continued. “I did what I could to hide the sores from him, I didn’t want him to panic you know. Once I returned home, I sought out a healer, but they had never seen anything like it.”

Thomas ran his long fingers over his hair. “You obviously touched something in the forest. That is the only thing that would explain it.”

Stefan smiled. “Yes, that is what the healers determined. The ones in the little town I live in could not figure it out, so they made a special request to the healers in Odin’s palace. They requested permission from the All-Father to go back to the woods to look around and study the fauna and flora. Gretta, the master healer, saw these plants growing around this one tree and knew it had to be the culprit as it was something that had never been seen.” Hissing slightly, his breath caught in his throat. “They rushed back to the palace and informed the king that I must be brought here while they determined what was happening, that I could be a danger to others. So, Odin had me set up in this room a couple of weeks ago, and every medicine known on Asgard has been tried, but alas, nothing has worked and the spots have spread.”

Standing up forcefully, Tom strode to look out the window at the beauty of Asgard, the high stone castles adorned in silver and gold, the trees full of white flowers standing tall in the squares. His eyes studied its people dressed in simple, yet elegant clothing. And, his mind raced with a hundred questions, but not one answer called itself up to him. 

“Thomas,” Stefan called out to him.

Turning back from the window, not afraid to show his despair at the impending loss of the man who had become an important part of his life. His eyes caught the brown ones staring back at him. 

“I want you to understand that I have accepted this. I have lived a good life, despite the tragedies that have occurred.”

“I know Stefan, but it still does not tear at the very fabric of my heart to know that you will no longer grace this world with all that you are.” His body drew closer to the edge of the bed. “You are like family to me.” 

“And you to me, dear boy, but you are strong, you will find peace with it someday,” Stefan said. “Now, sit and tell me what’s been going on with you since your last letter.”

Sitting down and taking a deep breath, Tom began a tale of his life since first meeting the Asgardian poet and soon whispers of words and soft laughter began to fill the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of Stefan's impending death hits home.

Chapter 11

So immersed in their conversation, Tom barely registered that someone had entered the room, that is until he heard a soft cough by the doors. “Oh, excuse me, madam, I did not hear you come in.”

“Ah, there is that magical woman and her potions,” said Stefan. 

Gretta smiled, and her warm green eyes lit up the room. “Not to worry sir. I only came by to check on my patient and to administer some more of this medicine,” her hands held up a tiny brown pot, “and to see if you require anything else to make you comfortable. Surely you must be thirsty.” Her statuesque beauty was on full display approaching the opposite side of the bed. 

“Some hot tea would be quite nice if that is okay,” said Tom. “But, please call me Tom or Thomas.” A slight grin lit up his mouth. His eyes studied her oval face, noticing how the light captured the beauty of her chestnut hair, voluminous even in its upswept fashion.

Standing by the opposite side of the bed, Gretta pinched her lips together briefly, a look of despair overshadowing her coral undertones. Turning to look back at Thomas, her eyes said everything. But, she forced it away and turned back to gaze at Stefan. “Shall we slather some of this on all your spots before the evening falls upon us?” 

“Well, if you insist my dear, but you have to promise not to get me too excited.” His brown eyes flashed a warm glint. “I do not think my old heart could take it.” 

“You really are incorrigible,” said Gretta. Setting the little pot down on the covers, her hands reaching over to him, began to ease him to a sitting position. 

Tom jumped up to assist her, helping to make him as comfortable as possible, knowing that the process of putting the medicine on was going to be painful.

Slowly pulling on the hem of the soft white tunic, Gretta moved it carefully up his torso so as not to catch the flared skin, spots that were now bright red and covered in yellow pus-filled sores 

Stefan winced in pain as some of the material caught on his face before it slid over his hair.

“Sorry dear,” said Gretta.

Stefan nodded. 

Picking up the medicine, her fingers scooped up a small amount of the translucent gel and carefully touched a large red spot above his heart. Her ears tried to drown out the hissing noise coming from her patient as more and more of the salve was worked into his skin.

“Can I help you with that?” Tom asked.

Gretta shot him a look of surprise. “If you wish.”

Tom leaned over and dipped the fingers of his right hand into the pot. Before he could start on the spots on Stefan’s right arm, the poet raised his hand. 

Is it not contagious Gretta?” Stefan croaked.

“No, dear, it is not. I believe enough time has passed for it to be safe.” Her mouth split into a small smile. “Thomas will not get sick.”

Stefan tried to grin back at her, but it was too hard to smile through the pain.

Thomas followed Gretta’s lead and lightly patted the medicine on two spots, working it into the redness with the least amount of pressure until there was nothing but a light sheen. Soon, the Asgardian healer and the man from Midgard had covered all the sores on Stefan’s body making sure that they had not left any area uncovered. His keen senses realized that the poet was quite embarrassed to be naked and exposed in Gretta’s presence.

“Let me get some wet cloths so we can clean our hands before helping him into some clean clothes.” Gretta walked into the large bathing area and pulled some plush white cloths from a shelf. Running them under the gold faucet and squeezing out the excess, the healer hurried back to the bed, handing one to Tom. Wiping his fingers vigorously, he marveled as he saw all traces of the salve disappear from his hands. Gretta held out her hand and he laid the cloth in her outstretched palm. 

The healer nodded in the direction of a plush green bench by a small bookcase. “If you would grab a clean shirt and pants, we will have him feeling comfortable in no time.” 

“Oh, of course.” Thomas strolled over and grabbed the clothing. Laying them on the silk bedspread, he gathered up the shirt and slowly guided it over Stefan’s head. “If you want, I can finish here, Gretta.” His mouth curved into a small grin. “I am really aching to try some Asgardian tea.”

“Yes, you must be quite in need of something by now.” Her face lit up with a smile as she bunched up the wet cloths into a ball. “I’ll leave you to take care of things until I return.” Her lithe body turned quickly and headed towards the door, shutting it softly behind her.

Stefan glanced up at Tom. “Thanks for suggesting you could help me out with the clean clothes.” Frustration covered his face. “It gets a bit embarrassing when I am here by myself with Gretta mothering over me.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Thomas picked up the pants. “Let’s see if you and I can get this done before she gets back. Which is easier my friend, lying down or standing up?”

“I can stand when I need to. Besides, I need to get up and stretch, even though it can be painful at times.”

Tom offered his arm for support and waited patiently while his friend eased himself to the edge of the bed. Stefan grabbed hold with a firm grip and managed to get himself upright and between the two of them, they managed to get him clothed with a minimum of effort. 

“Can you help me to the window?.” asked Stefan, continuing to hang on tightly to Tom’s forearm. “I don’t have much time left to look at my beautiful city.” A lump formed in his throat and tears welled in the corner of his eyes. 

Thomas guided him to the large opening and helped him grab hold of the wooden sill. Putting his arm around the poet’s shoulders, Tom stood there quietly, his own heart full of sadness. Biting his bottom lip, the young Midgardian forced his own tears back. Taking a deep breath, he pointed to a huge island in the middle of a lake that had a large house on it, surrounded by huge trees covered in green and pink flowers. “Does someone live there?”

Stefan sniffed. “Not any longer. I kind of remember some rich merchant owned the house and lived there for many years, but I believe he passed away and he had no kin, other than Frigga.” He smiled briefly. “They were cousins I believe.”

“I am still in disbelief that I am here looking at a city that has been a myth to me.” His hand gently squeezed Stefan’s shoulder. “Thanks to you, I got a chance.” Looking over at Stefan, Tom grinned. 

“I am glad Odin allowed you to visit. It was not an easy decision for him, but I kind of guilted him into it.” He chuckled. “Told him, you picked me, now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Tom laughed. “Well, it all worked out okay.”

“Yes, it did.” 

The doors opened and Gretta stood there holding a large tray filled with cups and bowls. “What are you two doing?” Swinging the door shut with her shoulder, the healer strode over and set the tray on the large nightstand behind them. 

“We are looking at the city,” Stefan answered rather gruffly. “Besides, I may be dying, but I can still stand up.”

Gretta sighed. “My apologies Stefan. I didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t be.”

Stefan looked over his shoulder at her. “Don’t mind me, dear lady. I am feeling a bit melancholy and wanted to have another look at our city.” Gazing up at Tom, he nodded back towards the bed. 

Thomas dropped his arm from Stefan’s shoulders and gently steered him by the elbow to the side of the bed. “I see the lovely Gretta has brought us some tea and what looks like soup. Do you think you could eat a little something with me?”

“I don’t know, but I will sure try,” Stefan answered.

“Good, I don’t want to eat by myself.” Looking over at Gretta, Tom raised his eyebrows, a questioning gaze in his blue eyes. 

“I think that is a fine idea, Thomas,” Gretta said. “Let me get that chair and bring it over so it will be easier for you to eat.” 

Tom finished getting Stefan settled back in bed, making sure the pillows were arranged well enough to allow him to sit up. Gretta brought a large wooden desk chair inlaid with a copper cushion and nestled it up next to the bed. “Wow, that sure smells delicious,” said Thomas, leaning over to take a peek at the soup before taking a seat. “What is it?” 

“Potato soup with carrots and spices,” Gretta answered. Setting a spoon inside a bowl, she handed one to Tom, along with a napkin. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Are you kidding? Potato soup is a favorite and I’m quite sure that the Asgardian version is pure heaven.” 

“Well, I am quite sure the cooks would love to hear that.” The healer smiled. “There are napkins here,” her finger pointed to some woven cloth folded in squares that she had removed from the tray, “and here is your tea,” setting a large stoneware mug on the wooden surface of the table.

“Thank you Gretta, it is most appreciated,” Tom said. 

Gretta looked over at Stefan who had leaned his head back a bit on a pillow and was staring at the young Midgardian. His face was awash in what could only amount to love in her eyes. “Are you ready to try a little bit of soup? I know you don’t have very much of an appetite, but you need the nourishment.”

Stefan jerked his head in her direction and grinned a little. “Yes, my dear lady, I most certainly will attempt some.” His body straightened and he adjusted the covers around his torso. 

Gretta picked up the large tray and set it on his lap. “You don’t have to eat it all, but even half is good.” Stepping back, the healer folded her hands together. “I will leave you two to enjoy your meal and will come back later to pick up everything.” Walking away, her skirts swishing in the quiet of the room, Gretta was about to step out, when Tom called out to her. Turning to face him, she waited for him to speak.

“Excuse me Gretta. I was wondering if it would be possible to see this plant that Stefan managed to rub up against?”

Stefan gulped down a bite of his soup, then waved his spoon. “Whatever for Thomas?”

“Hmm…, I guess it would be okay. But, I will have to bring it here. I don’t think the All-Father wants you roaming around the palace.”

“Will it be safe to do that?” Tom raised his eyebrows. “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble.” 

“I have it in a glass container in the healing room, well, what’s left of it anyway.” Her lips pursed together. “We destroyed the rest of it, so no one else would end up with the same ailment. Is there a particular reason you want to see it?” 

Thomas was silent for a moment, a distressed look passing through his eyes. “No, not particularly. I guess I just want to see what it looks like. You know, to look at something so innocuous as a little plant, that is going to take my friend from me.” Glancing over at Stefan who was still staring at him, Tom could not help the look of heartbreak that shadowed his face, the tears that once again threatened to escape his eyes. 

Stefan’s lips trembled a bit, but then he smiled and pointed his spoon at Tom. “You need to eat your soup before it gets cold.” 

Tom forced the huge lump down his throat and scooped a large spoonful of the creamy mixture into his mouth. A mixture of delight and wonder erupted around his taste buds, and his eyes closed briefly, then opened and gazed at the two Asgardians. “This is more amazing than I imagined it would be.”

“I am glad to hear you like it.” Gretta smiled. “Now, I have a few things to take care of, but I will be back in a little while. With the plant as you requested.” Nodding her head, and grabbing hold of the doorknob, the healer stepped out and disappeared. 

Thomas turned his attention back to the bowl sitting in his left hand. Shoveling more soup into his mouth, he hoped to avoid any more unpleasantness. Staying strong and brave in front of Stefan was getting harder and harder. Somehow he had to do better. Somehow he had to find the courage to make it through to the end.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom says goodbye.

Chapter 12

 

Within an hour Gretta returned and in her hands, she was holding a sealed glass case. Stepping over to the side of the bed, the healer stopped beside Thomas to allow him a closer look at the plant inside. “This is the remnant of what is left.”

Tom moved his face a bit closer to peer at the three leaves perched atop a stem. The two on the sides had little angular notches while the other did not. His eyebrows scrunched towards his nose. “And, you say, you have no records of this on Asgard?” 

“None.” Her head tilted at him. “Do you recognize it?”

“No. I thought it looked like something in the countryside where I live, but it is not.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Stefan nodding off. Glancing up at Gretta, his head nodded in the poet’s direction.

Stefan’s body jerked and his eyes flew open. “Forgive me, I guess I fell asleep briefly.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Tom. “I should have realized you needed to rest.” His long legs unfolded from his chair and picking it up from the back he walked over and set it by the bench. “You should sleep. Besides, I would like to look through some of those books,” pointing at the stack next to the wooden tray, “if that’s alright.” 

“By all means, my boy.” His body slid down a bit and his head settled against the white fabric beneath his head. “It would be good for you to do that because I want you to have them.” His eyes slid closed and before long his chest began to ebb and flow into a deep sleep. 

“I will go take this back to the healing room and come back for the tray, Thomas,” Gretta said in a hushed tone. Walking off to the entrance, her hand wrapped around the case, while the other pulled open the large wooden door, disappearing from sight.

Tom pinched his lips together and vigorously rubbed his hand across the back of his head. His hand reached over and snatched a couple of small journals from the stack on the table. Turning and looking around, his eyes spotted some glass doors leading to a small balcony. Tiptoeing away, he grabbed the chair and headed to the alcove, leaving one of the doors open so his ears could pick up Stefan calling out. Before sitting down, Thomas once again studied the landscape that lay before him. From the lush green plants that hung from every terrace, the gleaming towers with their huge spires reaching to the sky and the towering snow-capped mountains in the distance, it was like utopia. But, even his own senses were aware that there are always cracks in the veneers of what seemed like a perfect world. Yet, had he been a man with no home and no family, he could find himself asking the All-father for permission to never leave. To be a part of such beauty and splendor every waking day would be worth it, despite the fact that even the gods would not be able to hold onto Asgard forever.

Sighing, Tom walked back to the chair and settled his long frame into the plush cushion. Setting the books in his lap, his fingers opened the first leather journal, flicking past the first page covered in small green leaves to the next one. Tears pricked his eyes as they fell upon the bold calligraphy staring back at him:   
To Thomas, a mere human who taught me so much these last few years. Love, kindness, and patience. Qualities I wasn’t sure I still had. You have become like a son to me my friend and I wish you true peace and happiness all your days. Love, Stefan. Poet of Asgard.   
Slamming the book shut, Tom could no longer hold back the emotions his mind had pushed aside and soon warm tears on his cheeks gave way to heaving sobs. His upper body shook in his seat as the pain of impending loss took over. Laying the two books on his left thigh, his head dropped and fell across his forearms. Evidence of his crying was soon evident in the large stains traveling across the pewter sleeves of his tunic.

 

Gretta eased the door open and shut it softly behind her. Her eyes fell on Stefan still sleeping, his breaths while a bit ragged seemed to be okay. Seeing the door to the balcony open, her footsteps barely touched the floor and as she approached the opening, her ears caught the heavy sobs coming from the young Midgardian. Her heart grieved for him. Such depth of feeling, such compassion for another being. Her eyes had witnessed lesser behavior from her own people. Raising a closed fist to her mouth, she coughed slightly.

Thomas whipped his head up upon realizing he was not alone. “Oh gosh, please forgive me.” Wiping a hand across blue eyes tinged with redness, his long frame shot up out of the chair, scattering the books to the ground. 

“There is nothing to forgive Thomas.” Stepping out onto the burnished cream stone floor, a hand shot out to lay on his arm. “You feel deeply for that wonderful man in there and it is actually quite refreshing to see someone not afraid to show his feelings, to not hide them. Why don’t you tell me all about it.” Stooping down, Gretta picked up his books and pulled them to her chest.

Taking a deep breath, Tom let the corner of his mouth tip up a bit. “Are you sure I will not bore you?” 

“No, I am quite sure that will not happen.”

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Smiling, Tom motioned with his hand towards the chair. “But, please, do make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you. It has been a bit hectic.” Sitting herself down into the copper seat, Gretta looked up at Thomas and grinned. “It will be nice to listen to the tale of how an Aesir of Asgard becomes the dearest friend of a Midgardian.”

Crossing his arms, Thomas stepped back a bit and leaned against the balcony. Staring into her bright green eyes, his lips pursed together for a minute. “Now, you have to promise, you cannot share this with anyone. In fact, I am not even sure Odin would approve of me telling you.”

“You have my word, no one will know.”

“First, I should probably explain what I do for a profession on Midgard. It will help explain things a bit better. We have these story devices called motion pictures where actors, which is what I am, act out a story that was written by someone else and we have this technology that allows us to save the sequences. It is then able to be shown to millions of people around Earth. Got it so far?”

“I think so.” 

“So, I had been waiting to find out if I was going to get this really important part in one of these motion pictures and I was having a lot of problems with doubt and insecurity. I was running in this park,” Gretta interrupted him.

“Running? Why were you doing that?”

“It is a form of exercise on Midgard. Keeps you from getting too fat.” Laughing, a hand dropped down to his torso and patted it. “Also, it helps me clear my head, when I have too many things going on at once.”

“Ah, yes, now I understand.”

“Anyway I was running on this path, not paying much attention and suddenly I fell to the ground. I hear this gentleman asking me if I am okay and I look up and who do I see?” His head motions to the bedroom. 

“You mean, it was Stefan?”

“The very same. He helped me off the ground, while I tried to figure out in my head how I fell. I could sense there was something strange going on though, as it seemed he did not want to go away. Then out of the blue, he was asking me if I could buy him something warm to drink. I became suspicious of course, but he assured me that he only had something he wanted to discuss, I agreed.” Crossing his arms again, Tom continued. “We walked and talked for a bit when I asked him if he would like to come to my house for tea, as the curiosity was burning a hole in my blood.”

Laughing, Gretta told him, “Well, this story is certainly piquing my curiosity.” 

“Anyway, we go back to my place and over tea and biscuits, he tells me that he had come to Midgard to find me for the All-Father. Odin was having dreams about me, that somehow this tie between us was important. Stefan determined by looking at these mythology books lying on the table, that my constant calling out of the Aesir, the All-Father, Thor, Loki, had awoken something. The reason I was doing it was I was studying for a role in one of these motion pictures, and that role was to play Loki in what could be a turning point for me.” Looking over at Gretta, his eyes studied her face, trying to gauge her reaction.

Her eyebrows scrunched upwards. “You caused the All-Father to dream about you?”

“Yep. Of course, I had no idea I was doing it. So, Stefan sat there in my living room and explained everything. Then he was able through magic to show me two futures, one where I wallowed in self-pity and another where I did indeed get the part of Loki, changing my life for the better. Because of that, I saw that no matter what happened with me not getting the part, that my own optimism and hard work would take me far in life. Not allow myself to become mired down with sadness if things didn’t quite work out how I wanted.” Tom dropped his arms and rubbed his long fingers back and forth. ”I did get the part of Loki and my life changed just like he showed me. And, ever since then we have stayed in contact through the use of those wonderful ravens that Odin sends all over the nine realms.” 

“No wonder you are feeling such anguish.”

“Yes. Stefan has become like family to me. Our letters to one another have been one of the greatest joys of my life. Knowing that I shall lose them is almost more than I can bear.” His head swiveled away to look out at the horizon. 

Gretta opened her mouth to reply, but loud hacking coughs echoing from inside the room, sent her scrambling through the door, Tom right behind her. Laying the books down on the bench, her eyes fell on Stefan sitting up, struggling to breathe. Rushing to his bedside, the healer attempted to help him sit up a bit straighter to get more air into his lungs, while Thomas moved around her to get a glass of water from the table. Her hands began to massage his back in the hopes that it would help move more of the fluid from his lungs, but after a few seconds, the coughing continued. 

Tom sat down in front of Stefan, grabbing the poet’s left arm to steady his body. Lifting the glass to Stefan’s mouth, Tom only managed to get a small portion of the liquid inside, the rest running down his chin. Seeing the poet suffer caused no small measure of anxiety to the young Midgardian, and he could not stop the tears that slipped out of the corners of his eyes. 

Stefan took a small breath and gazed up at Thomas. “I fear the end is near, my friend.” His chest heaved as more coughs echoed throughout the room. Finally, a brief interlude occurred and his right hand came up and cupped Tom’s cheek. “I want you to know, that I love you like you were my own son,” his breath became more ragged, “and I could not be more proud of the man you have become.” The coughing began again, his face turning pink.

Gretta blanched. All her work to keep him alive was being taken away in an instant and soon her own despair became something she could not stop. Wetness sprang to her green eyes, spilling onto her lashes. 

Handing the glass to Gretta, Tom let the tears pour down his cheeks, not caring to hide his grief. “I love you too, my Asgardian father.” His voice choked and gathering Stefan into his long arms, held the poet until he could no longer feel the rise and of his chest. Sobbing uncontrollably, Thomas buried his head into Stefan’s shoulders, letting all his despair and loss spill out. 

The door flew open, and Odin stepped inside, Frigga behind him. Seeing the Midgardian holding the poet, crying, the All-Father sighed. He had been too late to say his own farewells. 

Frigga stepped around her husband and rushed to the bedside. Leaning down slightly, her arm reached around Tom’s broad shoulders, holding him as the grief shook his body. The queen’s own heart gripped with the anguish she felt through her touch upon him. Such feelings these Midgardians have. After a few moments had passed, Frigga sat next to him and leaned her head down close to his ear, her voice soft as a gentle breeze. “Come, Thomas, we need to prepare him for his journey among the stars.” Motioning to Gretta to help her, the healer slowly moved Tom’s arms from around the poet’s back easing his body onto the pillow and Frigga kept her arm around Thomas, giving him the support he needed.

Odin had found his way to the end of the large bed and stood stoic, hands behind his back, mourning the loss of the poet. His own final goodbyes will have to be left unsaid. 

Tom pulled his gaze from Stefan’s face and tilted his head to look into the queen’s eyes. “I wanted more time,” he said through the sobs, “Why, did he have to go so soon?” 

Frigga lifted her hand to his ginger curls, smoothing them back into place, before letting her hand rest on his upper back. “Many of us have asked that question through the millennia and have yet to find an answer.” A brief smile flashed across her lips and disappeared. “I wish I could ease the grief in your heart, make it go away, but it is something you must work through.” Removing her hand, Frigga stood and looked over at Odin. “The All-Father is here Thomas. Why do you not go and share your grief together? It will make it a bit easier for both of you.”

Tom sniffed and raised to his feet. Casting a sidelong glance at Odin, his eyes caught the sadness that overpowered the gruffness that the king often had to display to the subjects he ruled. Staring back at Frigga, he nodded, but as he started to walk over to the All-Father, he stopped and gazed out the window. “My lady?”

“Yes?”

“That house down there on that small island, Stefan remarked that he thought it once belonged to a kinsman of yours?” Thomas turned to look at the queen.

Odin stood up straighter and studied Tom’s face, trying to gauge where he was going with such a question.

“Indeed it did. My cousin loved that place and when he died, I could not bring myself to pass it on to someone else. I still cannot.” Frigga smiled. “I sometimes go there and walk through the gardens, remembering how much he loved them.”

“Not knowing what the burial rites and customs are here on Asgard, and I am not quite sure how to frame my question, but I was wondering if it would be at all possible to bury Stefan there amongst the trees and flowers.” A finger came up from his left hand and pointed at the colorful spot nestled away from the main residence. “Make it a kind of memorial to a poet of Asgard.” 

“Well, I don’t know, Thomas. That is something the king must decide.” Her head turned to look at her husband. 

Tom shifted his body around so that he could face them both. “Sire?” 

Odin rubbed a hand back and forth across his mouth. “It is a most unusual request, and it does go against our traditions, but the idea of a memorial is not a bad idea Thomas.” Lowering his hand to his side, he studied the Midgardian’s face. “However, we must come up with a way to compromise because I will see Stefan honored in the heavens through a warrior’s pyre. Stars to watch at night if I so desire.”

Tom scratched the back of his neck for a few seconds and then crossed his arms.”Well, what about a couple of benches, maybe a water fountain, and a plaque of some kind with his name. Or something similar per Asgard traditions?”

Frigga scrunched her eyebrows together. “I think that would work. Someplace that would allow people who know his poems and stories to visit, to remember him. What do you think, Odin?”

“Yes, I think that is a splendid idea.” Odin looked at over at Thomas. “Now, let us leave and allow his body to be prepared for a proper send off.”

Tom shot a parting glance at Stefan, burning his last look at his friend into his memory and followed the All-Father out of the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warrior's funeral for a poet of Asgard.

Chapter 13

 

After a restless night and day, Tom sat on the edge of the bed pulling on sage green boots that matched the tunic and pants left for him to wear to the ceremony for Stefan. Standing up and wiggling his toes back and forth, his face took on a look of astonishment and wonder. How did they get my size right? Hands rubbed up and down the sleeves of the soft fabric that covered his long arms. Almost like the cloth in my Loki costume, but better, he thought. A slight knock at the door shook him out of his admiration of Asgardian clothing. “Come in,” said Tom. Looking over at the entrance, his blue eyes caught Frigga strolling into the room.

Frigga flashed a wide smile at him. “You look very distinguished Thomas.” 

“Thank you, my lady.” Bowing slightly before her, and straightening his lean frame, his mouth managed a slight grin. “It makes me feel distinguished.”

“Good,” said Frigga. “We should go now. Odin has asked me to escort you to the location and to stand behind me. Since it is dark outside, not many people should notice you and since our sons are not here, that will help, because they would know you are not Aesir.” 

Tom strolled over to her side. “I am thankful that Odin is allowing me to witness the ceremony, so I will do whatever he requests.” His hand waved before him signaling his deference to her presence. “And, that he would allow me to be escorted by the queen of Asgard is truly a blessing.”

Nodding her head, Frigga passed through the entrance, Tom remained a few steps back so that his long stride would not overtake her. He had not been ordered to obey their rules, but as an Englishman whose head of state was also a queen, his sense of appropriateness and how to behave in the company of royalty was ingrained from birth. It was second nature, like breathing. 

“Thomas, you can walk next to me. You are not bound by our customs.” The queen turned her head slightly and smiled.

Moving his lean frame closer, Tom grinned. “I know my lady, but I come from a country that is also ruled by a queen and we are taught from a young age how to behave in their presence, so it only seemed natural to do the same here.”

Frigga’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. “You live under the rule of a queen? On Midgard? I thought that was no longer done.”

“Oh yes. Kings and queens have ruled my country for centuries. It is done a bit differently than say, one-thousand years ago, but Elizabeth is still the sovereign monarch of England and has been for sixty-four years” 

“It is indeed surprising to find this out. I had assumed that rulers of such nature had disappeared long ago.” 

“There are a couple of countries besides mine that still has the same type of rulers, but it is something that more and more people no longer want. So far my country has not decided to do so, but that could change.”

The queen stopped outside a set of large doors. “Well, I am sure that whatever happens, it will be because your people wish it. Time for a change, perhaps?”

“Possibly. If fate determines it must happen, it will.”

Frigga grabbed the large handles and swung the doors aside, allowing Thomas his first glimpse of the massive crowds gathered in the darkness. Several hundred grasped balls of white light in their hands. The Einherjar lined the walkway leading to the water’s edge and snapped to attention upon seeing the queen stroll on to the white stone, her hands clasped in front of her. 

Tom followed beside her, his hands hung loosely at his sides. The delight of the sight before him briefly flashed through his blue eyes but soon disappeared as his eyes caught sight of Odin turning to gaze at him and the queen approaching the guards positioned behind their king. The All-Father motioned for him to stand slightly behind and to the left of him, next to Gretta, who stood tall and erect, her oval face stoic and unreadable to his eyes. His gaze finally fell on the body of Stefan lying atop a funeral bier upon a small boat, the curved lines of the prows easy to see in the glowing light around them. The cloth beneath him was covered in gold filigree, the one on top of his body was green in color, with black stems and leaves woven throughout the fabric. The poet’s wizened hands lay clasped upon his chest, his face peaceful and serene, as if he was merely taking a nap. Tom felt his throat squeeze, the knot in it threatening to burst. Swallowing hard, his hands clenched hard against his sides. 

Odin cleared his throat. “Citizens of Asgard. We gather together this night to honor one of our finest storytellers whose words many of us have enjoyed for quite some time. Myself included. Remember him, treasure his works. That will be what keeps him in our hearts and our memories. He deserves no less.” His hand moved Gungnir slightly forward and two of the guards pushed the boat off away from the wall. The boat moved quickly through the dark water and was soon lit up by an arrow covered in flames touching down atop the cloth covering Stefan’s body. Within minutes the entire boat was engulfed in fire. The All-Father stepped slightly ahead of Tom and before the boat could slip off the edge of the water cascading into huge waterfalls, the golden staff banged on the ground and the boat lifted into the air. 

Thomas allowed himself to weep as the ship turned into flickering lights and drifted into the night sky. A pattern of a large quill and book now graced the heavens for all to see. The white lights being held by the Asgardians lifted into the darkness bathing everyone in hues of opalescence. His body jerked slightly upon realizing Gretta had grabbed his left hand into hers, clasping it tightly around her long fingers. Turning his head to gaze at her emerald eyes, also full of large pools of silver tears, his lips parted slightly into a small smile. Thomas took a deep breath and shifted his head back to witness the ceremony laid before him, honored that he had been allowed to witness something no Midgardian had been allowed to see.

 

Odin and Frigga stood by the large opening where the All-Father’s skiff stood, its metal skin gleaming under the evening sky. “I know it may seem unkind of me to rush you Thomas, but I must return you to Midgard while it is dark. There will be less prying eyes that may notice you flying off with the king. Plus, Thor and Loki will be returning tomorrow and they must not detect your presence.” 

“I quite understand, sire,” replied Tom, easing up next to the queen. “I think I am ready to go home. I need some time to reflect on Stefan’s passing before I must return to work.” 

Frigga smiled. “I will miss talking with you, Thomas. You are a great credit to Midgard and I wish you a long life, full of happiness and peace.”

Tom bowed slightly. “Thank you, my lady. I am truly honored to have met you.” His body turned to look at Gretta. “You are a great healer and I know you did everything possible to save Stefan, so please don’t be sad. It was his time.”

Gretta smiled. “Thank you. It was very nice to meet you. I too wish you a wonderful joy-filled life.” She handed him a large cloth bag. “Here are the books that Stefan insisted you keep.”

Taking the bag from her hand, he spoke softly. “They shall hold a treasured place on my bookshelf.” Looking at both Gretta and Frigga, Tom gave them a small smile. “Thank you for your kind words and I will endeavor to lead the best life I can.”

Odin coughed and headed through the huge door leading to the landing platform. Two of the Einherjar stood silently by the steps leading into the ship. Hurrying into the skiff, the All-Father waited for Thomas to make his way into the boat. Once aboard, Odin signaled the guard standing by the gold controls at the stern as he and Tom sat down. The skiff lifted quickly into the warm night air and sailed over the city.

Tom looked around Asgard, drinking in its beauty, imprinting everything he could into his memory. Glancing over at the All-Father, his eyes studied the wizened face of the ruler of the Nine Realms. That he was sitting next to an actual god did not escape his thoughts and his mind reeled between actual glee and profound sadness. 

Odin chuckled and whipped his head around to stare into Thomas’s eyes. “Hopefully, I do not seem that old to you.” 

Flashing a sheepish grin at the All-Father, Tom cleared his throat. “No sire, not at all. I look at you with a sense of awe and wonder. What you do to protect my world even though no one is aware of it, I will always treasure.”

“Sometimes I wonder whether I should bother any longer. The way in which Midgardians kill each other with such blatant disregard for life troubles me daily Thomas.”

“Yes, I would imagine it would. But, I believe that as each day that goes by, more and more of the people who inhabit that beautiful blue world of mine will eventually realize how wrong it is.” Tom looked away, his eyes catching the rainbow bridge coming up beneath them. Turning his head back to stare at Odin, he pursed his lips together briefly. “You should also remember sire, that there are now billions of inhabitants compared to the much smaller population that lived when you were worshipped as gods. You put that many people together on one planet you are bound to have some disagreements.” His mouth curved into a tiny grin. “But, if someday you do decide to teach us a lesson, can I get a heads up so I can go hide in a cave somewhere?”

The All-Father laughed. “Yes, I will give you fair warning.” 

“Okay, sounds good,” Tom replied. But before he could say another word, the guard set the skiff down outside the entrance to Heimdall’s station.

One of the Einherjar flipped the stairs down onto the luminescent colors shimmering back and forth underneath the ship. Odin stepped down and hurried into the chamber, Tom on his heels, lugging his treasures off his shoulder. Stopping beside the huge opening that looked out into the cosmos, the All-Father turned to the young Midgardian whose mouth had dropped open and then closed at the sight before him. “Quite the sight, don’t you agree?” 

“I never dreamed it would be so beautiful sire,” Tom said, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, it is.” Odin turned to glance at Heimdall. The golden warrior stood stoic and quiet before them, his gloved hands resting on the golden sword before him. “Well, Heimdall, shall we get this Midgardian back home?” 

“As you wish my king.” His words echoed around the walls.

“Sire, before I go, there is just one thing I would like to ask of you.”

“Of course. I am not sure I can grant it, but please what is it?”

“Will it still be possible for the ravens to visit me now and then?” Tom raised his eyebrows a bit at Odin. “I truly love it when they come by my home.”

The All-Father grinned. “Of course. Besides dear boy, what they do when they go flying around Midgard, I do not have a lot of control over. They are merely messengers, bringing me back what is going on around the realms. As long as they come back here at night is the most important thing.” His smile disappeared. “However, they cannot make a habit of doing it all the time. Hugin and Mugin are very important to the safety of everyone and choosing to spend a lot of time visiting with you, will not be tolerated.” 

“Of course not sire. I would never dream of letting them do that,” said Tom. “I just wanted to know if it was permissible in case I had a letter or a Christmas card to send you and Frigga,”

“That is acceptable.” His uncovered eye narrowed. “However, no more letting them ride in your driving machine.” 

Tom flashed a large grin and bowed. “Yes, All-Father. No more riding in my car.”

“Good. Now will you be okay doing this on your own?” asked Odin. “Heimdall and I will make sure to cause as little disturbance to the area where I met you, so hopefully no one will notice you when you arrive.”

Smiling, Tom planted his feet firmly down on the floor beneath him. “Yes, All-Father, I believe so. And, you know, I am an actor, so if nothing else, I can make something up.” His hand reached out to Odin’s. “Thank you for giving me such a wonderful experience.”

Gripping Tom’s hand in his, Odin smiled. “You are most welcome Thomas. Oh, and I had better put you back in your own clothing before you go, this,” waving his hand the length of Tom’s body, “will definitely draw attention to yourself.” 

Tom looked down and saw that he was now fully clothed in his own clothes. “Yes, this is definitely better..”

The All-Father stepped back. “It is now up to you Heimdall.” 

Heimdall glanced over at Thomas. “It will only take a few seconds, so you will be home in no time.”

“Thank you.” Tom smiled. Turning his body to stare out into the vast expanse of the starry sky in front of him, his body tensed. “I am ready to go gatekeeper.” Suddenly a bright light whooshed the Midgardian into a straight vortex of colored beams and Tom’s stomach tightened like a vise as he sped toward Earth. His eyes tried to notice everything around him, but before he could really commit to his mind the beauty of what his body was experiencing, the brightness dimmed and his feet landed softly on the bare spot in the field. Glancing around in the darkness, and not seeing anyone lurking around, he hurried through the rows of wheat and found the road that led to the inn where his car was parked. Slowing himself down and strolling casually along the two-lane highway, he could not help but grin from ear-to-ear on what his life had been like since finding himself on Asgard two days earlier. Sticking a hand in his pocket and shifting the bag of books to his other shoulder, he pursed his lips together and soon soft whistling could be heard in the warm night air.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An answer at last for Stefan's illness. But, how it got to Asgard is for another story. Maybe.

Chapter 14

One week later... 

Tom walked slowly beside musician Rodney Crowell, their feet rustling the soft leaves and grass of the woods near Rodney’s Nashville area home.

“So, Tom, you can pretty much run anywhere around these woods,” his hand swept around them, “and you should be able to find your way back to the house,” said Rodney, his southern drawl puncturing the silence of the quiet forest. 

“Great!” replied Tom. His head raised up to look into the afternoon sun, filtered through the large branches swaying slightly in the slight breezes. The leaves were mostly green with an occasional yellow one rippled back and forth. Lowering his gaze back to the path in front of him, Thomas studied the bushes and shrubs, the trees, getting a feel for the land as the two men walked further and further along. Tom’s eyes rested on a shrub beneath a large oak tree and his breath caught in his throat for a second. “What is that plant?” His voice cried out as he rushed to stand in front of it.

Rodney looked at the greenery and yelled out. “Don’t you touch that! That is what we call poison ivy. And, it will give you nastiest rash this side of the Mississippi.” Sidling up next to Tom, his eyes glanced over at the young Englishman who had come to Tennessee to study music for a film. Noticing a haunted look and moist blue eyes, the musician scrunched his eyes together. “Is there something wrong, you seem horrified to see that there plant?”

Tom suddenly realized that he had let his emotions get the better of him upon seeing the plant that had killed Stefan. And, he would not be able to explain the significance of what he was seeing. “No, no, it’s just that it seems so foreign to me, that even just lying here in the woods, it even seems deadly, the way it looks, the three leaves. I had no idea that it could make you sick.” His mouth flashed a small grin. “We don’t have anything like this in England.” 

“Yeah, it does look kind of menacing now that you mention it,” Rodney stated, his head moving back and forth, studying a plant that he has seen his whole life.

“How does it give you the rash?”

“It is some kind of oil in the stems, the leaves.”

“Can it kill you?” asked, Tom, stepping back further from the shrub.

“No, not generally. It just puts nasty red spots on your body and we just slather calamine lotion over them to help heal it. I have heard that some people have really bad reactions and can almost die. Something about closing up their air passages or something.”

Thomas pulled his camera out of his pants pocket and turned it on. Swiping the screen after entering his code, a thumb swiped across to the camera app and he snapped a few photos of the plant. Looking over at Rodney, he smiled. “I want to make sure I keep this plant in my memory so I can avoid it while I am out running.”

“Good idea, Tommy boy.” Rodney laughed. “Now, we had better get back, dinner should be ready soon.” His body turned back around and headed back down the path leading from the house.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Following the musician, Tom looked down at his phone to make sure the pictures were saved to the camera roll before placing it back in his pants. While he wanted nothing more than to print them out to send a copy of the Midgardian plant to the All-father, it would have to wait. Right now, his work had to be his main focus for the next few months. People were counting on him to be nothing short of spectacular in the role of Hank Williams and everything else had to be put aside. 

 

December...

Pacing back and forth across the wooden floor in his living room, a coffee cup in his right hand, Thomas would stop occasionally to listen for the familiar caws of Odin’s ravens, hoping that they could sense his agitation and make an appearance in his backyard. How they always seemed to pick up on his moods he would most likely never understand and at this point in his life, worrying about it didn’t seem to matter any longer. 

Tom flipped the switch on his printer and popped open his laptop. Setting his cup down, his fingers tapped on various apps on his phone lying on his desktop while he waited for the device to warm up. He opened the camera roll and forwarded the two photos of the poison ivy plant to the print program and within a few seconds, two pieces of paper slid out into the tray. Grabbing a plain piece of paper and a pen, Tom began to write furiously across the page.

Sire,  
I am forwarding these photos to you of a plant that I came across while I was on location filming a movie. This is the same plant that Gretta showed me that killed Stefan. How it came to be in a forest on Asgard is certainly a mystery, but it is one that you now have to solve. I have my own conclusions on how this could have happened, but as king of the Nine Realms, you certainly have much better resources to determine this phenomenon. It was certainly a shock when I spotted it beneath an oak tree in the forest near the home of a friend. It was explained to me that the oils that reside throughout the plant are what causes the painful rash. I was told most people do not suffer any ill effects from it other than the painful red spots that can cause horrible itching, but there have been occasions where some folks have died or nearly died from certain aspects of the rash. It certainly makes sense that no one knew what to do after Stefan became ill, as your healers had never dealt with the aftermath of this substance since no one knew the plant even existed, thereby no cure could be used. This particular plant only exists in certain areas of Midgard and when a person contracts the rash, there is a certain medicine that is used to help control it. Hopefully, no more of these plants are found again anywhere on Asgard, but if it should occur, the healing lotion can be found here.   
I hope this letter finds you and Frigga well and in good health. Please tell Gretta hello for me.  
Your servant and friend,  
Thomas

Folding the letter in thirds, Thomas opened the drawer underneath the middle of the desk and grabbed a plain envelope. Stuffing the letter inside, his tongue quickly ran across the glue and his fingers smoothed the flap closed. He grabbed his coffee and a coat and headed to the back yard to wait for Odin’s magnificent birds.


End file.
